


Who She Is In the Dark

by SullustanGin



Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Nun Acquisition, Chaotic Good never dies, Corellian Whiskey, Corso gets owned, Droids doing droid stuff, During Canon, Eventual Happy Ending, Eye Contact, F/M, Flirting, Love at First Sight, Pre-Relationship, References to pornography, Risha wins a bet, SIS Agents have issues, Smoking, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Forged Alliances, references to human trafficking, sullustan gin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullustanGin/pseuds/SullustanGin
Summary: Later, Theron would write, "I loved you from the moment I saw you" (Crisis on Umbara).  When the writer is a rogue SIS Agent, what does "saw" mean?Pre-Forged Alliances, Theron receives intel on a potential outside contract for the Korriban Sith Academy data theft.  He gets a lot more than he asked for, thanks to his coworkers and the smuggler in question:  Eva Corolastor.  This story presents the Smuggler's background via holo intel then proceeds through the missions on Korriban and Tython before concluding with the first cantina meeting between the Smuggler and the Spy.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Female Smuggler, Theron Shan/Smuggler
Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642009
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. The Voidhound

**Author's Note:**

> The Smuggler has been named! This is now the first in a set of fics based around the Captain featured in "Lady of Emancipation." I'm not sure if I should go back and change that fic to reflect the new name, or if I should leave it as is -- feedback is appreciated on that matter (and on this piece!)

Initially, Theron Shan was unsure if an individual called the Voidhound existed. The near-mythical and short track record did not help. Then it was a question as to what that individual was – demographics escaped the initial intel reports. The voice was distinctive, most likely female, based upon holo communications, but the intel was inconsistent as to who and what the Voidhound was. Whoever it was certainly had a bizarre sense of humor and timing. 

Standard operating procedure (S.O.P.) was for the initial meeting to be conducted while the Voidhound was in a set costume: blackest black blastweave; a wide-brimmed hat to cast shadow on the face and prevent holocams from getting a good look; a pop of color at the front collar; boots that were heeled for scaling purposes (but also acted to distort any sense of true height). Thereafter, however, the individual quickly merged themselves with the local populace. Gone was the dramatic costume; they blended in with the local environment. The crew was known to exist, but it seemed there was a new accomplice to any venture the Voidhound made. One day it was a Wookiee, the next a Zabrak, then someone else the next day. It did not help that that XS Stock Light Freighter was unregistered and heavily modded – it was distinct, but it could only be sighted, not tracked easily. There were periods where it was registered, but then it would be registered under 3 or 4 different numbers which were unwittingly shared by other XS Lights.

This resulted in the detention of an entire convent community of the Sisters of the Three Moons on one occasion. When asked if they’d ever been affiliated with the Voidhound, the Abbess Mother simply replied, “She was never here.” 

Several interviews with civilians planetside provided some evidence that the smuggler in question was a woman. However, prying out anything else about their benefactor was impossible; they were wary of Pub and Imp authorities alike. They trusted the smuggler more. Theron found himself frustrated by the local authorities – they knew her on sight, paid her, but then simply stated that they were told “she was never here” by the smuggler herself. 

Interviews with the disgraced senator Bevera Dodonna were unproductive, as were similar efforts with captured double-agent Darmas Pollaran. “She’s my finest creation. If she’s a thorn in your side, then I have done well.” 

The Office of the Chancellor was unrelentingly tight-lipped about their “asset,” particularly after said asset began raiding both sides of the war effort following the death of the Voidwolf.

It was thanks to Imperial security holo cams that ultimately, Theron Shan was able to identify the Voidhound. The death of the Voidwolf had been visible to his three captains, and the security footage was verified by the low-res transmissions. As a last effort, the Voidwolf had pitched a thermal grenade as the smuggler and her Wookiee companion. Although she dealt with it quickly, the blast still knocked her to the floor, blowing off her hat and uncoiling the hair she kept pinned underneath. Her face was finally in full view of the camera as she laid there, stunned, coat caught up behind her back. The long duster had obscured any sense of her weight or figure, but with it out of the way, it was confirmed that she was a woman. When her eyes flew open, the color was noted as brown, of similar shade to her hair. With a gasp, she instinctively rolled to reclaim the hat and her anonymity. She rose up on all fours, hesitant to rise, but affirming to her companion she was fine – did she get him? 

“Captain” Eva Corolastor. She had never been in any military setting. Her chain code indicated she’d been born on a ship in transit about two years before the Battle of Alderaan. The last name suggested her parents were Hadrian and Athene Corolastor, also smugglers. Beyond that, the biographical dossier was thin. She had registered to fight on Nar Shadaa to liberate the Killer from Kashykk – likely the Wookiee that accompanied her. That was one of the few instances he could trace of her full name. Mostly, it was EC. There were millions of EC’s in the galaxy, thousands of those who were brunette, human, female, and in the appropriate age bracket. Not as many had a Wookiee companion, but she did not only travel with him. Her crew was varied – she could go months at a time without being seen with one of them.

Theron’s biggest break came when both Satele Shan and Jace Malcom were looped in on a meeting between Chancellor Saresh and Corolastor on Keylander Station. Or, more accurately, Corolastor’s assistant. When the footage from their offices arrived by special request at his work station, Theron watched Malcom’s version through his station once. He knew Malcom’s people were looking at the smuggler for dark ops purposes as well, so they had already started flagging the conversation when his request came through. Theron replied with his thanks and a promise of (eventually) shared intel. At the end of the day, the Chancellor’s office sent over a copy of the meeting in telemetry – all the data and sound flowing in and out, but not holo visuals. Theron sneered at it, but packed it off to his analysts along with the two holo copies. After downloading the data for all three files to a personal datapad, he headed home for the night – not to kick off, but to work. This exchange wasn’t what anyone thought it was. 

He turned the matter over in his mind as he took the electro-tram from the non-descript Coruscant office building to his apartment. The hum of the line and the waves of garbled speech as people shuffled on and off the car filtered into his head. Clicking his back teeth together, he selectively deactivated his implants in order to consider the footage in his mind without interference from the steadily growing stack of unanswered Holonet messages in his inbox. He only messages allowed through in this setting were responses to his own inquiries, fired off before he left the office. Eyes shut, he sank back into the seat and waited for the 14 stops to fly by. 

Theron knew from the jump that the woman that presented herself to the three Republic leaders was not the real Eva Corolastor. Yes, she too was a brunette, but Corolastor’s voice was lower, her face paler. He was willing to bet that the biometrics would not match either. The jacket looked built up to Theron, as if the person wearing the coat was smaller in the shoulders than its usual wearer. It also hit too high on the legs – height was different. Theron had also noticed that the impostor’s waist was not as small as Corolastor’s – the gun belt sat differently compared to when he’d seen her in action against the Voidwolf. These weren’t sexually-motivated observations; he knew his mark, and he knew when someone was trying to fool others. And indeed, based upon the high priority message that just came in through his filter, the pair had played Republic security. 

Based upon the holo analysis, the biometrics of the woman did not match Corolastor. The eggheads downstairs suggested that the coat had been padded at the shoulders and hips to give the illusion of the two women being the same, but the actual flow of the garment had been changed. Another fun tidbit: the giant rimmed hat fake-Corolastor wore to obscure her face was hiding quite possibly the tiniest, thinnest comm line they’d ever seen. Theron nodded; he’d suspected as much when he told them to check in with the Chancellor’s security staff on the meeting.

The security attache to Saresh had the place bugged to high heavens. The comm line wasn’t obvious. If one wasn’t looking for it, one would think a small cricket had made its way into the station, tracked up by the workers on Makeb. The giveaway was that it only made noise during the conversation and was never heard from again. The real Corolastor fed her doppelganger lines through the earpiece. 

Theron had to admit that this little coupe over Republic security was embarrassing to them and brilliant for her all at the same time. 

Stop 14. Theron rose and got off the tram. His standing order with a food delivery service was waiting for him at the station. He grabbed it with one hand and with the other tipped the courier with a tap of his implant before disappearing into the throng of humanity that flowed out of the station. 

After eating on his couch at home, Theron poured himself a tumbler of Corellian whiskey for dessert as he fired up his office-provided datapad and two others he personally owned. Time to do some extracurricular deep diving. Or, getting around acquiring a warrant, if he were to be honest.


	2. Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain and Crew do lunch on Keylander Station, while making Pub security look like a bunch of putzes.

First, Theron took a careful sip of the whiskey. Then, clandestinely, Theron traced the comm line based upon its cricket-like transmissions to the orbital station’s bar. Did the bar have the legal minimum for holovid surveillance? Yes. Had it been deleted by now? No; it had been uploaded to a remote server. Theron grabbed a personal datapad that ran a block on his holonet signatures and outgoing data. A few taps later, it was downloading the security footage from someone else’s server. Malcom’s footage was pulled up alongside the sound feed on the work-issued datapad, leaving one datapad free for Theron to cross reference any intel he could pick up. 

Theron enjoyed another sip of the whiskey, the fire nagging slightly at the back of his throat. Not as good flavor depth as the older stuff, but the younger vintage had a clean feel to it. 

The bar security footage was a bit hazy. The noise from the comm line had captured not only the words of his parents and Saresh, but also the noise at the bar coming in the opposite direction. That would make it a lot easier to sync up the action on the bar holocam with the comm transmission….if he could only find the right table. There was a loud clink at one point, and a quick thanks to the server as drinks were served, but to find the right server and the right table was going to be a slightly time-consuming challenge. Easy part was synchronization – all the video feeds were timestamped. 

It took Theron 45 minutes by eye to do it, but he found the right table in the right place at the right time. Zooming in on the table and its occupants, Theron ran the footage through an automatic cleanup tool to improve the image quality and clean up some of the recorder defects, like the rather prominent thumbprint smudge right in the middle. 

Theron hit play on all three feeds via a network link and sat back to watched it play for a few seconds, eyes on the table. Corolastor’s hair color was confirmed as a deep brown. Theron couldn’t help but notice the elegant long, thin fingers that curled around the rims of two glasses. Somewhere, a violin teacher mourned. 

The voice that spoke was matched to other holo transmissions – low, distinctly feminine, and more than a bit sassy. “Bowie --- Bowie—Bowdaar, stop looking at the pretty lady behind the bar and take your drink. I can’t take you anywhere. Guss – Corso, not yours. There you go. Akaavi, thank you for not being a savage animal.” The glasses clinked as they took their drinks and made food orders. “The usual?” Corolastor muttered under her breath. Then she was silent, waiting. 

Theron’s eyes darted over to the holo footage of Saresh droning on. Almost imperceptibly, he saw the not-Corolastor not her head and murmur “yes” at a moment where it would have looked as if she were agreeing with the Chancellor. Well-played by the double. He stopped the footage.

Corolastor was not fully visible, but her crew were. After cleanup, they were easy to screenshot. Theron waited for the images to upload and connect with different profiles that he’d already assembled as possible connections for the smuggler. The Killer from Kashyyk was already a known quantity, but apparently, his name was Bowdaar or “Bowie,” based upon the snippet of conversation the comm link captured. The Wookiee’s real name had never been recorded or it had been lost during his years of slavery. That filled in a gap in Theron’s intel. 

Languss “Guss” Tuno, former failed Jedi. Could see the Force at work, but couldn’t actually use it. That, to Theron, was infinitely more frustrating than his own Force-null state. Made some waves when he unceremoniously exited the Jedi Order – Theron laughed when he first heard about it from his mother. Quick talker, bit lazy. Guss was the only shipmate that logically would have ended up with a smuggler anyway…the others seemed out of place. 

Corso Riggs, native of Ord Mantell. Goody-two boots that seemed to live in eternal hope. He had been a merc at one point, but in the records of the merc corp, there was a lot of white knighting that suggested he was for the adventure, not the money. 

Akaavi Spar, Mandalorian. There were so many questions as to how Corolastor convinced a Mando of all things to saddle up with her, but there she was. Last of Clan Spar, bounty hunter, considered an Imperial asset….up til now. Apparently she was now free-lancing. 

Major players identified, minus the double. Theron hoped that would come with time, but first, he needed the Voidhound’s angle on that conversation. He restarted the feeds. 

The restaurant feed jumped slightly at the beginning, and immediately, Theron noticed that the door to the left of the table was blocked by a body standing there. “Come in. Come in. Read me?” Theron heard the voice and the shadow moved into the bar – aha. He hit pause again and had the computer run a visual analysis on the figure and match it to – yes, it matched the biometric data gathered on Corolastor from the Voidwolf fight. No overcoat to obscure her – she wasn’t “on the job.” Corolastor could have blended in with any of the young civilian women on planet: ankle boots, belted slim fit trousers, yellow blouse – tucked in, top two buttons undone --, braided hair. Deliberately nondescript. 

Having confirmed her identity, he hit play and she slid into her chair, facing her crewmates. “Hey, boss, we got you a gin,” Guss said. 

“Good, thanks. Got her on the line, so let me do my thing.” 

Conversation at the table picked up, excluding the smuggler. Something about the trash disposal on the ship. 

Finally, Malcom’s feed flickered to life, as did the image of the double and Saresh. “I ask everyone here with me to honor this brave captain—”

The double kept a poker face, but Theron could hear in Corolastor’s voice an eye roll. “And are we leaving out that my crew and I have been outlawed? Yes, yes, we are. Ok, I say ‘I expected a surprise party or a parade. I mean, I won’t turn down a job, but I wouldn’t mind a blow-out bash once in a while.’ Go.” 

“-- who thwarted an attack on the Republic by no less than an Imperial Grand Admiral.” 

As the double conveyed Corolastor’s sentiments, Corso piped up. “Are you seriously talking to the Republic Chancellor that way?” 

“Yes,” answered Corolaster. Then, more quietly, “Make sure you bring up the legality issue before she dismisses you. If we aren’t cleared, we’re leaving. Got enough to do at Port Nowhere.”

Saresh then deferred to Jace Malcom. “Thirteen days ago, the Hutt Cartel violated Republic space and seized the planet Makeb. They’ve blockaded the system with 30 Ajuur-class heavy cruisers.”

“Hutt blockade,” Corolastor said at the table. 

“I’m always up for killing Hutts. God’s filthiest creatures.” Theron’s implants translated the Wookiee’s words, roughly.

“I know, Bowie.” The soft note in her voice reminded Theron that the Killer from Kashyyk had been owned by Hutts at one point… the fact that the Hutt in question was dead contributed to a theory that there was a life debt in play here. The Wookiee would never abandon her. 

At that moment, the drinks arrived and the food was ordered. As Saresh proclaimed that Makeb would join the Republic if it were to be delivered from the Hutts, the double affirmed that she wanted her usual order at lunch, making it look as if the Voidhound had some other interest beyond financial. Corolastor kept the chatter to a minimum while still relaying the crew’s opinion. The two were practiced at this deception. “Ask a stupid question. Why not buy off the Hutts?”

Bowdaar made a disgruntled noise. Corso agreed, “We shouldn’t let those bad guys run the galaxy.” 

Guss cut in. “I prefer not getting shot at, especially if we are being buttered up for a patriotic discount.”

Theron could see Corolastor waving her hand, trying to clear the background noise as she attempted to listen to the response. Saresh refused to negotiate. Theron found himself taking a deep swallow of the whiskey. He tended to find politics in general infuriating, but when vested in that particularly Twi….

“Grandstanding. Guss might win this one, guys.” Theron could hear the clink of ice as Corolastor took a sip of her drink as she listened to Malcom detail the impossibilities of landing actual Republic forces on the planet. 

Saresh plowed on and provided the contact name of Shalim Avesta to the double, “One of Makeb’s business leaders, Shalim Avesta, is waiting for you on the surface. I want you working closely with him.”

Corolastor shifted in her seat. “Steamrolling onward,” she stated, irritated. “Make it clear we aren’t going to bend the knee to her on this – either we’re independent ops or we’re out.”

The double relayed the request. “I work better alone. If you want this done right, let me handle it my way. I’ll only take this job if I don’t have to salute anyone.” 

“Nobody is asking you to compromise your ideals, Captain. Avesta is a resource – use him.” 

Corolastor scoffed, and the ice rattled in its ever-diminishing pool of liquid. 

“Liberating Makeb is your top priority but I want the Hutts’ ambitions ended permanently. Grand Master Satele Shan has insight regarding our enemy’s future plans.”

Corolastor held up her glass as the waitress passed. “Sullustan gin and tonic. Thanks.” 

“Going that good, huh?” asked Corso, gnawing around what sounded like a rack of ribs. 

“Definitely getting the alcohol surplus charge tacked on to the bill for just the pitch alone. It’s awful. Now I got a Jedi Grand Master telling me she ‘senses’ the Hutts’ desire for galactic domination.” Theron could almost hear the quotation marks in that sentence. Corolastor was a Force skeptic.

Guss slurped something and quipped, “You don’t need to be a Jedi to know that, trust me.” 

Corolastor exhaled. “Rish, ask again if we can buy them out, except with the idea that we buy them before the Empire does.” 

Theron’s ears perked up as he heard some reference to the double’s name. R-i-s-h – short ‘i’ not a ‘double e’. Rish – last name needed. Might get a visual later. He set his datapad to search for women with broad similarity to Corolastor’s biometrics in the same age bracket. 

“You seem reluctant to make money off the Republic’s problem,” Akaavi Spar finally spoke up.

“I’m reluctant to do business with this power-tripping windbag, especially since she hasn’t said anything about rescinding our status. I don’t want this to be a trap.”

“Prudent.” Akaavi seemed satisfied with that explanation. 

Saresh stated that any negotiations with the Hutts would be one-sided …meaning she wanted to be in the driver’s seat. “Definitely power-tripping windbag,” murmured Theron, and he belatedly realized that Corolastor had repeated the same at the table. 

“A shuttle will transport you to Shalim Avesta’s encampment on the surface---”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Risha, get the status thing taken care of. If not, regroup at the ship, we’re bailing.”

Risha. Full name. That would help. Theron updated the search terms. At the same time, he watched Corolastor rise to meet her waitress, pluck the glass from the service tray and force credits into her hands. Corolastor stood at the side of the table, drinking her second gin and tonic as fast as possible. Nerves. That was a lot of alcohol. Corolastor flipped something onto the table in Corso’s direction. Ship start codes? Possibly. 

“Chancellor, there is one minor issue. Currently, I am outlawed by your administration for my business ventures after I single-handedly took out the Imperial Agent the Voidwolf. If you want me to work for the Republic, I want to be under its aegis rather than its boot…”

“Nice one.” Corolastor was about half-way done with her second drink. “Your coronation speech is going to be killer.”

Coronation. Huh. Theron threw in additional word search parameters regarding ‘royal’ and ‘exile.’ 

Chancellor Saresh paused and made a face, as if something foul-smelling had entered the room. “Yes. I see. We will take of it.”

Corolastor slammed down the rest of her drink and resumed her seat at the table. In a low voice – almost a growl – Corolastor retorted, “You will take care of it before I move from this spot, Chancellor. My people depend on me to keep me safe, just as the Republic does you,” A pause. “Say it. And if anything looks funny, you know where I keep my flash grenades.”

The double – Risha – lifted her chin slightly as she repeated the words. Theron carefully watched the screen as the left hand just ever so slightly cheated toward the inside right pocket of the coat. Good to know.

All motion at the table stilled as they waited. The crew could feel their boss’s change in demeanor. Theron noticed that Saresh seemed to hesitate – so much to the point that both Satele and Jace looked at her, wondering why there was hesitation in either direction. 

The awkward silence dragged on. “Hold steady. She’s the one who solicited us despite not reconciling past billing issues,” Corolastor reassured Risha. 

At last, Saresh broke. “I assume you would want that affirmation in writing, as usual, Captain?”

“Yes. And may I assume standard practice for Republic contractors and billing for all upcoming expenses?” The double’s eye’s narrowed slightly as Saresh became increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze. 

“Yes.” The environment in that meeting room at Keylander was positively Hothian. 

“Pleasure doing business with you again, Chancellor.”

Theron could hear Corolastor’s short, barking laugh. “Bullshit. Thank you for handling that, Risha. Lunch is served.” 

Saresh departed with her guard, and Malcom’s feed cut out. Theron fast-forwarded the sound and bar footage through about 8 minutes of eating noises until Risha appeared at the doorway. 

Corolastor stood up to wave her over as Risha ripped the jacket off and threw it at her. Risha slid into a seat next to her Captain. “This thing reeks. When was the last time you washed it?” Her voice was slightly higher, more clipped than her Corolastor imitation voice. 

Corolastor took the hat off Risha’s head and plonked it on her own. Theron saw the hat dip down, as if Corolastor was inspecting the coat. “Ah geez. What did I roll in – wait, you don’t want to know. Sorry about that. At least you weren’t standing downwind like Saresh was.” 

Risha huffed as she shrugged out of the coat. “I still had to stand in front of that vile woman. Remind me why we’re taking this job.”

“First and foremost, we’re not outlawed anymore – we got the papers for that, going to mount that on the dashboard.” One of the men banged the table in agreement – might have been the Wookiee. 

“Second,” Corolastor continued, “I believe in free commerce – blockading up a planet means one less customer I can do business with. Thirdly, I’m taking money out of her filthy little mitts,” Corolastor crunched into something. “Hey, hand me a knife. Need to kill this little helper.” 

After some shuffling and some moving of fabric, the comm link went dead. At the same time, Theron’s datapad chirped. “Risha Drayen,” he said out loud. Exiled Dubrilion noble, claim to the throne still intact. Daughter of the legendary Nok….whose treasure had been recovered by none other than Eva Corolastor. 

That stitched up rather neatly. There seemed to be a positive relationship between captain and crew, so it would be unlikely that Theron could use one of them against her. That might be a downside. 

Theron finished his glass of whiskey with that thought.


	3. The Mourner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva Corolastor deals with all of the aftermath of Nok Drayen's death, while Theron discovers that it is a distinct possibility that his coworkers hate him.

Theron pulled open a timeline he’d made of the data he had on Corolastor. The Makeb footage was from about a year ago, maybe a bit more. Since then, Corolastor had been keeping herself invisible to the Republic authorities. The Voidhound’s fleet was churning out successful hits on shipping, but the known XS Light had not been with them. A lot could happen to a smuggler in a year. They weren’t known for their lifespans. 

On the other hand, prior to getting tangled up with Darmas Pollaran, Eva Corolastor had managed to live under the radar for at least – Theron did the math in his head – four years since the previous owners of the ship, her parents, had been reported dead. The “loud” period, which culminated in the Voidwolf’s death, was about two years long. Two years out from that, mostly silent, minus the Makeb situation. 

She was a good smuggler. You didn’t know she existed, typically.

Theron took a deep breath as he surveyed the evidence in chronological order. Still holos would be looked at last – he hated those. Streaming footage was easier to analyze and less creepy.

The first holo he viewed almost caused him to give up for the night. It was of poor quality in so, so, so many ways. 

First, it was from a ship entering a black hole. It was an old ship to boot. Theron had no idea where his contact had scavenged this. Secondly, there was no sound. Third…. 

He was 80% sure the smuggler had had hate sex with the guy who’d stolen her ship, Skavak. Not on camera. But as the ship was barreling into the black hole, Corso had been sent up into the XS Light, Corolastor grabbed Skavak by the collar (and then by the mouth), the two of them disappeared, he came back with a swagger…

And then she punched him in the junk. Theron winced and crossed his legs, even though it was thousands of light years away and over 5 years ago. Universal male response to that type of savagery, though not undeserved. After she blasted him, Corolastor even looted the body of a small pistol before leaving it there to be spaced into nothingness. 

Well. Theron supposed she could be depended on to get a mission done, but maybe not without extracurricular activities. Could he live with that? 

It’s a _smuggler_. If Theron wanted the done straight with no frills, he’d be looking at a trooper. They had the creativity of a janitor droid on auto. 

What the hell was even the point of sending this? No memo, no explanation as to _why_ Theron would want to see this. Balkar, resident SIS Jackass, probably sent this over to get a rise out of him. Shaking his head, Theron moved on to the next piece in the timeline. 

This was a public closed-circuit security holo from a planet called Dantooine. Mostly transients there – it was a stopover, not a fully settled planet. Old Jedi ruins there attracted thieves and treasure hunters. That would fit…

When the screen flickered on, Theron jolted slightly when he realized the holo was from a neglected graveyard. The holo cam seemed to be mounted on a tree overlooking a series of plots. After a few moments, two women entered the plot, alone. One was dressed head to toe in black, including a mourning veil. Upon closer examination, she had an entirely traditional mourning dress that stretched to the ground. It wasn’t seen often anymore, but some of the older houses kept up the tradition. She took a sharp breath as she approached the small plaque that marked a grave, freshly dug. 

“I’m sorry, Risha.” Theron belatedly realized the other woman was Corolastor. She looked….different. Her hair was down to her shoulders – he guessed it was longer than the black hole video (which he didn’t want to think about) and much too short for the braid she sported on Makeb. She wore black as well, trousers and an all-weather jacket that zipped at the side. She gestured to a bench across from the plot. 

Risha readily sat down, and Theron could hear the occasional sniffle and sob. Finally, she spoke. “I hated him so much at the end. How he treated you.”

“How he treated _you,_ ” Corolaster returned the volley.

“He was sick,” was Risha’s weak reply. 

“Not so sick he didn’t have time for us to run across the galaxy into a black hole.” Corolaster stuffed her hands into her coat pockets.

Risha leaned back on the bench. “You had fun, if I remember correctly. And you definitely profited. Isn’t that what the smuggler life is all about?” Theron couldn’t see Risha’s face beyond the veil, but he could hear the razor in her voice. 

Corolastor shrugged. “Yeah.” No shame, no hesitation. “But you don’t have to be cruel. Especially to your kid.” 

The breeze picked up, and a few leaves fluttered across the holo. The veil shifted. Risha’s eye makeup had spidered down her face due to her tears, but she was hardly overwrought. “I could take it. Underworld isn’t known for its kindness; he was probably just testing me, making sure I came out all right, that I was tough enough to hack it.”

Even through the holo lens, the expression on Corolastor’s face belied her documented talent at the card table. It clearly conveyed how appalled she was at Nok Drayen’s behavior, her disappointment in how Risha tried to excuse it. “Testing you? All right? Risha, I’m happy you’re not a vibroknife murderer after everything he’s put you through!” she spat with some exasperation.

Risha rose up from her seat on the bench. “Maybe he was a shit father. But he loved me.” Her voice broke. “And he loved her.” 

Theron quietly zoomed the footage in on the plaque – Aisla Drayen. Assumedly, Nok’s wife and Risha’s mother. He reset the zoom to return to the scene.

“I never said he didn’t.” Corolaster’s reply was almost too quiet to hear. “It wouldn’t have killed him any faster to tell you that, though.” 

Risha’s hand came out lighting quick, but Corolastor’s left arm was quicker and got the block up. Risha pulled her hand back toward her and threw her veil up out of her face. “You. How the hell do you survive, with your stupid sentimentality?” 

Theron saw the mask drop onto Corolastor’s face, and Risha spent her fury on an unresponsive audience. “You pick on my father for being a hard man. He built a criminal empire from the ground up. He took care of me until he couldn’t. He assembled the best crews and pulled off the greatest jobs. And yet you surpass him with your fucking pile of misfits back on the ship!” 

“Guess that makes you Queen Misfit,” Corolastor shot back, cool and even. 

Theron saw Risha’s fist clench. “If we had a proper crew with more competence and less dumb luck, we could do a lot more.”

Corolastor tilted her head slightly to the side. “And then it’s a guessing game as to which one of the competent career criminals poisoned me. Isn’t that what happened when your father assembled ‘the best crews’?” Risha’s fist trembled. “Have you ever wondered which one of your underworld uncles betrayed him? Doesn’t matter though, because he killed them all. He definitely got him. Whoever he was, along with anyone who had been loyal to him. And to you.” Corolastor rolled her shoulders back slightly, squaring up to Risha. “I’ll skip that and keep my misfits. Including you.” 

The veiled head shook. “You will never get ahead.”

“Depends on how you define getting ahead, I suppose.” 

The conversation ended. There was silence. Risha’s fist unclenched, and she sat back down on the bench. Corolastor turned away, staring off into the distance. Theron waited. There was something else, something his contact wanted him to see. 

“Eva, what happened to your parents?” The words crept out of Risha’s mouth, sounding so frail and breakable. 

The sudden use of her first name seemingly startled the smuggler, and she turned on her heel. The expressionless, unreadable face she had worn was gone. Instead, the face was solemn, the eyes sparking with life as they peered over at the grave plot before returning to her shipmate.

“They –ahm.” Eva put her hands on her hips and her gaze dropped to her feet. She then sighed and returned her eyes to Risha. “Their ship blew up. More accurately, was blown up. I was not prepared.” 

Theron felt his heart drop. What the hell was wrong with his contacts? He didn’t want to know…

“How?” Risha’s voice was still thin. 

There was a pause as Eva moved her head, as if trying to sequence something or arrange something in the correct order. “We were smugglers. You knew that.” Risha nodded. “Got a job. Republic convoy of questionable legality needed to move through Imperial space – just a short hop, but enough that the Republic would rather hire someone to do it rather than risk their own.” 

Eva gestured with her hands, explaining the positioning of the ships. “I was toward the front, on the XS. I wasn’t trusted yet to pilot a strange ship. Imperials swept into the middle of the line. I was told to get gone. I did.” One hand rose up and gestured up and away. “As S.O.P., I went dark for 24 hours. No comms, no lights. I hid. I was awake, sitting in my bunk like a frightened little owl. When I got back, there was just a debris field.” Eva pressed her lips together, jaw slightly tightened before continuing. “I had woken up as a child, I eventually – eventually – went to sleep a captain.”

Risha shifted on the bench. “How old?”

Eva grimaced. “I was a kid, I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?” Risha sounded indignant.

Eva threw up her hands in a dramatic shrug. “No time to think. We were small-time, hand-to-mouth. If you didn’t think quick, you didn’t live long. I had their regular routes to run. Hell, they were long-lived for our business anyway.” She laughed at that, and Theron felt slightly guilty for his thoughts earlier. “Anyway, they’re dead, and I’m alive. I know they’d be proud of me.” 

Risha stared at her. “How do you know?”

Eva gave a half-shrug, one shoulder jutting slightly forward. “Until the last hour of it, I had a happy childhood. I had a stable world in an unstable universe in that ship. They were smugglers. I was their daughter. They loved me and said so. Life was simple.” 

Risha’s facial expression wasn’t visible, but Eva’s reaction to it was. The brow creased in concern, and her features softened. Eva took a step closer, bending low….and then the waterworks opened on Risha’s end. Eva sat down hard on the bench beside her friend, and Risha leaned in. Between her sobs, Theron could make out. “Lucky.” 

And all Eva could do was say, “I know. I’m sorry for your loss. All of it.” Risha’s crying intensified for a few minutes.

Finally, Theron found the notes attached to this particular holo. 

_Emotionally stable. Not crazy. Not a fan of the Imps. Good habits for not dying on mission. No family = no baggage = no loose ends._

_\--G_

Theron was beginning to think that his contacts had issues.

After Risha finished crying, the two women sat on the bench in silence. 

Eventually, Eva leaned back on the bench. “In the all the years you were here -- never knew this was out here?” Eva asked, absent-mindedly grinding the toe of her boot into the hardened dirt under the bench.

Risha shook her head. “I wondered why he told me to go here, of all places, with him – he was already frozen. Ease of disposal in case it…went wrong, I guess.” She sniffled again. “I don’t remember her. He didn’t make me remember her.” 

Eva frowned as she looked over at the plot. “Suppose he wanted to spare you?”

“Nothing sadder than girl who misses her mother. So I guess he ensured I didn’t.”

“He did though. If you wanted to know, his will was dreadfully maudlin.”

Risha finally pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off her face. “Lay it on me.”

Eva stretched her legs forward toward the grave, staying seated. “Your father asked that his body be cremated and scattered among the stars. But the last good piece of his heart – the one bit of him that was not diseased – was to be placed here with your mother.” A beat. “I almost cried reading it, that romantic son of a bitch. No wonder you exist.”

Risha burst out laughing. It was a slightly uncontrollable laughter, tinged by nerves, by grief, and by relief. Then, quietly, “He was all about efficiency. But …there’s more to it than that. Someone said he changed after she died…” Risha shrugged. “They’re dead too, so who cares? We’re alive.” 

The laughter was quieter but still audible. The women sat in silence looking at the grave of Aisla Drayen, the resting place of Nok Drayen’s heart, which apparently was not a mythological object as previously suspected. The holo cut out before they ended their vigil. 

Theron glared at the bottle of whiskey before pouring himself another tumbler’s worth.


	4. Unyielding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron finally gets a helpful report from a coworker.

Theron scanned what he had left to review before making his official recommendation for the Korriban incursion later that week. That was targeted for next month, if the recommended actor was available and ready to go on short notice. Two holo streams, four sets of stills. Yeah, he could knock it out in a night. 

CorsSec had sent over this next holo. This was right around the time Darmas Pollaran and Senator Dodonna were fully exposed for their collusion with the Sith Empire. There had been some sort of …. Street confrontation? Rather than waiting to the end, Theron read the notes provided by his contact to prepare himself. 

_She puts on a good show – charismatic when she decides to be seen. People will follow her. Can’t be compromised via shame – or at least I haven’t seen anything to suggest she can be. Despite what you hear on the Holonet, she was the one who apprehended them for the authorities. They’re both alive – there is a sense of right, of justice under there. Indomitable will – make sure you’re on the same wavelength. She will do exactly as advertised._

_\--R_

Figures that the only worthwhile piece of intel about the woman came from a female contact. Theron queued up the feed and hit play.

From the vantage point of the security holo, Darmas had mounted a stage and was making a speech to a bunch of citizens that wanted to blast the Empire right off their planet. They didn’t know he was a double agent, playing them. That was to the left of the screen. To the right, Theron could see Corolastor in what he now termed “the Dark Lady” persona, that initial contact outfit and the cool demeanor that was indigenous to high-stakes pazaak tables. Lagging along behind her was Guss, likely looking for something to steal along the way. 

“When we blow this tunnel, we will pour down on the Empire like an erupting volcano. We –” the words died in Pollaran’s throat as he sighted Corolastor. “Her! The imperial traitor! Should we bow to the Voidwolf with her? Or teach her what real Corellians do?”

“Traitor!”

“You’re dead!”

Over the din of the crowd, Theron could hear her say firmly, “Darmas is the traitor,” but the rest was swallowed up as Pollaran laid the case out against her: theft of Balmorran weapons, the White Claw cloaking tech – all going to her master, the Voidwolf. 

The crowd grew more agitated. Guss shuffled up behind her as the mob began to slowly close in around them. 

“No one turns against Corellia.”

“String her up!”

An electric shiver went straight up Theron’s spine. He knew how it ended, but to hear and see people say that…

“Lynch her!” As others began to chime in and demands for rope began to fly, Eva’s card table mask began to crack. The eyes were the first to go, widening and scanning the area more aggressively. Theron could see the unsteady rise and fall of her shoulders. 

Guss was visibly shaking next to her, and he appeared to say something as he drew up to her shoulder. Theron attempted to boost the Mon Calimari’s speech to be audible despite the din of the street. And therein lay the intel’s value. “Boss, I’m scared,” he stuttered.

Not looking at him, Eva almost imperceptibly nodded. “Me, too. I’m sorry you—”

Guss cut her off. “I won’t leave you. I promise.” Theron had boosted the audio so much he actually heard the guy’s teeth rattle. And there he was, possibly the most ignoble of the crew, throwing down for his captain. _People will follow her_.

Eva sucked in a breath of air. “Thank you, Guss.” She closed her eyes for a moment, adjusted her stance, and when she called out Pollaran, it was as beskar: strong, sharp, and unwavering. “This whole patriot thing is a sham. He’s just in it for the hot lady rebels.”

“Of all the things to say,” Theron said aloud in disbelief. He reached for his glass.

“Getting desperate, are we?” Pollaran sneered at her. “Obviously, the lie of a woman scorned.” 

Eva Corolastor held her ground, staring up at Pollaran. Gus, meanwhile, wobbled on his feet, but he still stood with her. 

“I admit, I once loved this woman –” The word “love” was delivered as slimy and suggestive of anything but “love.” “Until I heard her speak oaths to the Voidwolf in her sleep.”

Eva’s expression did not waver. “No, seriously, he’s kidnapping women across the galaxy for his ship-board harem. I saw him last night---”

“She’s got to be bullshitting,” Theron muttered as he reached for a datapad while trying to balance the whiskey in one hand and another screen in his lap. He needed to cut his alcohol off soon – his executive function was going to hell. 

As he grabbed the datapad to look up the file, he became keenly aware of the silence that ensued. Pollaran had gone white, and the mob had started to look around itself, asking if they’d heard this too…it seemed that a number of them had a thought about Pollaran in that context. Even as Pollaran dismissed it, voices began to pipe up. “It’s true! He tried to lure me into his ship last night to see his rare artworks.” “He flirted with my daughter!” “Hey, have you seen her since -”

And with that, Theron watched as a crowd turned on its main instigator. They started to surge toward him, asking questions. Guss whispered to his boss, “How’d you know? We just got here.”

The response was cold. “Educated guess.” 

Any further conversation was cut off as Pollaran deployed assassination droids on the mob. Finally, Eva looked at Guss, and he looked at her. With a nod in unison, they wordlessly engaged the droids. 

Theron had looked over some combat footage of her before, but it was mostly fragmented. He knew she was an ace pilot of nearly any ship came across, and she was excellent at stealth ops: infiltration, theft, and exfiltration. To see her engage in an open square was new information. 

The opening volley was a personal shield deployment, followed by a thermal grenade that stunned the droids and halted their fire. Through the smoke, he saw her bolt forward then leap behind some barrels as a flurry of blades exploded around the droids, carving them up and severing their wires. From her cover, she and Guss (who lagged along behind her) were able to snipe and dispatch the three droids. Neat. Clean. Effective. Not a shock trooper by any means – she was in and out of combat within seconds. She would be well-suited for his second wave on Korriban. 

Despite himself, Theron found himself rewinding to the moment that Eva showed fear – where the façade of the Dark Lady fell away. He could see her panic, her eyes betraying frenetic brain activity as she tried to think a way out of this. And in turn, he also saw what his contact called “indomitable will” as she steeled herself and went on the offensive with something so ridiculous, it had to be true. As she walked away from the scene, apologies from the Corellians all around her, Theron couldn’t help but notice how drawn Eva looked – tired, weakened…betrayed. Yes. 

It hadn’t been a one-night stand between those two. It was, as gossip had indicated, something deeper between them. 

According to the data Theron had pulled up, Darmas Pollaran was imprisoned for life for his acts of treason, but he had also been assigned 300 additional years for the trafficking of no fewer than 15 women. Eva Corolastor’s words had struck their mark. 

According to a disciplinary report filed about a year after events, Pollaran’s cheekbones and nose had been broken when Eva visited him. He was lodged in the low-security wing due to good behavior, and so he could have visitors bring him gifts and pass them into his hands through a partition once they’d been inspected. After a lengthy conversation about something (which Theron was going to need to know about), Eva had reached through the visitor’s glass partition, grabbed Pollaran by the collar, and smashed his face forward into the glass several times. The discipline report was against the guard on duty, who had watched it happen and then took a small amount of money offered by Eva. 

Theron could not say that he condemned the guard. Or Eva.

When did he start referring to her by her first name instead of Corolastor? 


	5. The Great Mandalorian Cache: Mischiefmaker/Smokemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva (indirectly) sends Theron a present. And boy, is it loaded.

The last piece of footage was something Theron had long awaited. He’d been saving this for nearly a week. The last piece of holo stream intel came from an especially strange source. This was an actual info drop from the Voidhound herself. It had been launched into Imperial territory and coded in Mando’a riddles. It had taken Theron’s analysts weeks to decode. 

And then, when they finally cracked the first layer of encryption, they got a holo of Eva in the cockpit of the XS Light, seated in her Captain’s chair. She spoke Mando’a, though slowly as if she wasn’t confident of the pronunciation, but very confident of the words she had chosen. She got most of it right, according to Theron’s analysts, but there were some idiosyncrasies that likely came from her teacher – Akaavi Spar, the Zabrak. 

“This message is meant for Mandalorians. They know who they are. If you are not Mando’ad, this is not for you. Put this back where you found it. I was never here.” The holo cut out. That was all they had to show for nearly a month’s work of work.

And then there was another three layers of Mando’a riddles. According to Theron’s sources, the Empire had branded it a waste of time and given up on the cache. She was a smuggler; they would catch her quicker through other ways rather than wasting time on riddles. 

As far as Theron was concerned, strictly speaking, he could let this info drop sit on his shelf as the Empire did. She was alive months after Makeb, adding credence to the idea she was hiding rather than dead. He could have left it there.

But no. Theron couldn’t resist the opportunity to get one up on Imperial Intel, so he set some of the young bucks in the analyst division on it. Some of the older ones called it hazing, but Theron considered it an opportunity for someone new to prove themselves. 

They struggled with it for another four months. Four months that ended just last week. 

How had Theron spent those four months? During that time, Theron found himself taken away from the Korriban project – not officially, but there were things that his superiors gave him to distract him. First, pursuit of the Shroud, some would-be techno-terrorist. That ultimately led to another operative putting the kibosh on the Shroud’s attempts to crash a massive ship into Coruscant, but at the cost of Deena Riss’s life. The data had survived, and the SIS would not rest until Riss had been avenged. That consumed two months. Then there was that whole mess on Oricon. 

But eventually, one of the analysts, riding on a high off caf, pornography, and an erudite boyfriend, had cracked it. His explanation was that his partner had developed an interest in schlocky adult holos from about fifty years ago as an artistic medium, and one of the favored exploitation themes was the Mando ways, which lent themselves to all sorts of kinks. Apparently, because of how trashy and questionable these holos were, not only were they sold with a black seal, they were also given titles that could be mistaken for Mando’a sacred texts so that they could circulate. The boyfriend found this out when his holo order arrived and they were disappointingly prudish: old Mandos reading the sacred texts, not hot dudes with helmets. The titles matched, but not the contents. 

Essentially, what this boiled down to was that the riddles overtly referred to “plotlines” in specific holos, whose titles referred to Mando’a texts. Within the texts was the very tame answer to the riddle, but the precise answer was hidden via key code derived from a sequence of letters within each book. This meant the analyst solved the problem by staying up for nearly a week straight watching pornography while his boyfriend matched the language to the books, extracted the key, and “provided moral support.” 

The analyst brought the keys to work, since he himself did not actually read Mando’a, and promptly fell asleep at his desk. Theron had packed him off home and written him up for a commendation for “going above and beyond the call of duty.”

Theron did this to see whether his bosses ever actually did read his memos. They didn’t; guy got a promotion and a raise, but now he had the problem that he couldn’t really explain in polite company how he had earned such accolades. The boyfriend got an engagement ring out of the deal. Theron was the first to buy a gift off their wedding registry. 

That stirred the uncomfortable question of who had come up with this sleazy code on the smuggler’s crew. He could see Akaavi with assistance from Eva creating it, but who would do the ‘specialized research’ --?

Guss. Gut instinct said Guss, especially after a piece of security footage surfaced from a Balmorran bar wherein Akaavi had literally drop kicked Guss across the bar for hugging her unexpectedly. Bowdaar had been deployed to collect the two of them from the brig – he was probably the only one big enough that the Mando wouldn’t try to kill in order to get to Guss. 

So, more intel: Guss had a thing for Mandos, and the Mando-in-residence Akaavi wanted no part of him. But that didn’t stop Akaavi from using his knowledge to create a code to hide….something. Whatever the hell it was that was in that cache. 

Theron hoped it wasn’t more pornography.

It wasn’t. Thankfully.

The holos were extracted from what apparently was Eva Corolastor’s captain’s log over the course of two days. Again, Eva’s face appeared to admonish the viewer at the beginning in Mando’a. “This is Captain Eva Corolastor. Akaavi of Clan Spar is a member of my crew. I make this holo barefaced without disguise as an expression of my trust in Clan Spar and its members. If you are not Mando’ad, put this back where it was found. This is not meant for you. I was never here.” 

The dashboard log was voice activated. The first entry was seemingly irrelevant and frankly boring. Eva was onscreen, talking about ship statistics and developments on the galactic trade network that her lieutenants should take care of (trends that coincided with the market roughly 5 months after Makeb, Theron’s analysts had found while trying to date the footage). Apparently, whatever Eva had left this data cache for, it was unexpected. 

The log only got interesting when Eva was interrupted by Akaavi bursting into the cockpit. The door had been shut to block out the other noises of the ship, and a dull roar came through as the door was open and shut. 

Eva spun in her chair, revealing in profile that she was dressed casually: t-shirt, utility pants, socks with grips on the bottom so she wouldn’t slide all over the command deck if she had to get up quickly. Her hair was really long, compared to what Theron had seen previously. “In the middle of a log, what—”

“Leave it running. It is better to have a record,” came the breathless interruption. 

Eva’s brow creased. “O…K… what’s up?” Theron could see her trying to read Akaavi, as one would read an opponent at a card table. Sharks would dally in arranging their cards, deciding whether to draw from a deck, or just by speaking to the dealer very slowly – as Eva did here.

Now that she had Eva’s attention, Akaavi seemed to falter. “I should not involve anyone outside – but there is no one –” Akaavi’s words crumbled in her mouth. The stoic could not express herself. There was no more Clan Spar to ask for help. There was no more Clan Lone, either. 

“Ask,” was the one word that gently interrupted Akaavi’s fretting. “Anything. You’re one of my crew. You’ve been stiff the entire time since we left the last planet, and it’s not just because you took a blaster to the back.” 

Mandos didn’t take blasters to the back typically, not this one particularly. She’d been distracted. 

“It has come to my knowledge that not all of Clan Spar was destroyed by the Empire. A small segment of a covert had split shortly before, much as I did, to marry into another clan.” 

“That’s good news, right?” Eva asked.

Akaavi shifted her weight. “Yes. For now.” The Mandalorian lapsed into silence, the moment becoming increasingly uneasy. An internal war was going on within the Mandalorian. Eva was still as she waited for Akaavi to play it out. “They made it to an outpost, but due to treachery and bad-dealing, they have become stranded in an asteroid belt. They have waited too long to be helped by Republic or Empire. Time is now short for them.”

Without hesitation, Eva turned back toward the dashboard. “Give me a sector, and we’ll jump to hyperspace.” 

“I—” Akaavi stopped herself. “You are not Mando’ad. I should not ask you.”

“There’s no rule about hiring out mercenaries to assist the Clan. Make it purely a business transaction,” Eva offered. 

Akaavi unsteadily nodded. “What is the price for hiring out the crew, Captain?” 

Eva pressed the comm button. “Hey, Risha. What’s the going rate for crew jobs? Akaavi has a thing for us.”

“Give me parameters, anticipated acts of heroism, gear, amount of explosives that will be spent -- I can look it up in the pricing list with the crew discount.” 

Eva’s response was flippant. “Eh, we’ll figure it out after we get there. I’m still waiting on Akaavi telling me where this thing is.” Eva looked up at Akaavi expectantly. 

“It’s near Eriadu.” 

The comm gave up a wave of static as Risha sighed and made a note on what Theron assumed to be an eventual bill of service. Eva’s hands flew over the star chart as she charted the course. She switched the comm channel to shipwide. “Prepare for jump. Surprise, guys.” As the ship jolted, the holo cut out with a flip of a switch on Eva’s right side. 

Next holo entry. Eva sat again in the captain’s chair, hands flying over the systems console as she spoke. This appeared to be the next day – different shirt. 

The door to the rest of the ship was open, but there was no significant noise interference. The ship seemed to be at a stop. “Captain’s log – ascribe system time to this entry and all those supplemental. We have reached the Seswenna sector without detection. Eriadu is currently suffering a meteor shower as a result of aggressive mining tactics out on the asteroid belt. Unfortunately for the Mandalorians that have been stranded, the debris made it difficult to land on the asteroid in question… which was difficult to identify because they keep ignoring Akaavi’s signals – they are frightened. Fortunately, however, there is an artificial atmosphere here provided by the mining company, so we don’t need EVA suits, just respirators as a protection against the dust.” 

Eva made an infuriated noise in the back of her throat as she ducked underneath to work on a panel out of the dash log’s view. Her voice was muffled but still clear enough to understand. “Thanks to scanners, we found a concentration of lifeforms in what I would call a medium size troop transport on one asteroid. Upon landing, we have suffered some damage to the hull, the launch engines, and a few external flaps. Getting up again is currently a minor concern—”

“Minor? I don’t want to die out here. It’s major!” Guss hollered at her from the doorway. He appeared to be suiting up along side other members of the crew, a respirator in his hand.

“I will take care of it,” Eva cut him off from her position somewhere on the floor of the XS cockpit. “The rest of you need to follow Akaavi, do whatever she asks. Bowie and I will be here, watching for a break in—”

Suddenly the ship shook. Eva’s head popped out. “Guss, gimme a reading. What was that?” 

Guss rushed to the station directly behind the captain’s chair, then shifted to the co-pilot station. “Uh-oh.”

“Define uh-oh.”

“Yeesh, this thing we’ve landed on is not stable. Massive seismic activity – I think Eriadu has been fracking, which is making this thing shake.” A few taps of his hand, and Guss brought up a new screen. “Uhm. I might be reading this wrong, but this asteroid is going to fall apart soon.” Guss’s eyes bulged as the data on the screen projected a blue light onto his face. 

“Define soon”

“Uh. Can we leave now? That would be good.” When Eva glared at him, Guss’s hands gestured at the computer. “I’m serious. The computer wants out of here too.”’

Eva sighed, leaning her head back against the seat of the Captain’s chair. She frowned as she glanced around at the various screens around the cockpit. She stopped moving for about ten seconds. “Right. You, Risha, Corso – go with Akaavi. Make it fast.” She hauled herself to her feet. She had the bottom half of maintenance jumpsuit on already, and she shrugged into the top half as she spoke to Guss. “I’m going to be crawling around in the engines. Pipe any info to Bowdaar, who’s going to go out and handle the flaps.” 

“Yes, boss.” Guss clomped out of the cockpit, pulling on his gloves as he passed. Eva paused a moment as she secured her hair away from her face, turning momentarily toward the dash log. “End entry.”

Next holo.

“Captain’s log, supplemental, remote action from engines.” The screen flickered on, showing an empty cockpit. Eva sounded exhausted. And hoarse. “Debris from the landing ended up entering engine compartment 4. This interfered with insulation, which led to the peeling of thermal protection, which led to it catching fire. We will need maintenance and replacement when we get back to Republic Fleet. Fire is mostly put out.” A rasp from her end of the comm, and then the noise of an industrial extinguisher.

Suddenly, a protocol droid’s voice broke in. “Master, I have detected a jump in your vitals from the maintenance suit. Are you in need of assistance?” 

“No, I’m fine. I was on fire for a second, but I got it. C2, we have scissors on board, right?” 

“Yes, Master.” A beat. “Are you injured?”

“No, but I now need a haircut.” 

“Oh my.” 

“Status on quarters for these refugees?”

C2’s demeanor seemed to immediately brighten up, now that he wasn’t stewing over his Master immolating herself alive in her engine room. “We are ready for their arrival. I have prepared rationed meals of both child and adult varieties, as well as additional sleeping arrangements in both crew quarters and in sickbay.”

Another rasp. “You using my captain’s quarters?”

“I was going to ask.”

“Go ahead. I’ll bunk in the cockpit until they’re offboarded. You know what to hide and where.” 

There was an audible beep and click. “Bowie, you back in yet?”

The Wookiee grunted. The transmission quality was too poor for Theron to translate via implants. 

“You see them coming?”

A groan, then a slightly muted roar. 

“Good, I’m as close to done as I’m going to be here.” There was a loud noise as a door creaked open further back on the ship. The audio cut out momentarily. After a minute, the door to the cockpit swung open, and a once-orange maintenance suit emerged, covered in soot. 

Eva ripped off the respirator and chucked it to the co-pilot’s seat, a puff of ash kicking up. Off came the gloves as she coughed. She turned to lean against the bulkhead to unlatch her magnetic boots. As she placed them outside the cockpit door, Theron caught a look at her back. She had indeed caught fire, and it had crawled its way up the back of her suit through her hair, which had been pulled back in a ponytail. The suit was intact, but she was right – the hair was not salvageable. 

“Master?” C2 appeared at the door way, scissors in hand. His eyes glowed a pale gold in the shadow. 

Eva turned her back to him and pointed. “Yeah, cut it at the tie.” 

“I’m sure Miss Risha can do a better job,” C2 insisted nervously.

“So am I, but I need get the burnt smell out of me. It’ll grow back, C2,” Eva reassured him. Theron heard the creak of the scissors, once, twice, thrice, four times before the burnt hair fell away in a single, gathered knot. Her hair barely scraped her shoulders now, slightly uneven. “Hang on, let me get out of this and you can space the entire pile, minus the boots.” 

Obediently, C2 waited as his master pulled the maintenance suit off her shoulders, unbelted the waist, and stepped out of the sooty outfit. She’d worn a t-shirt and black pair of utility pants underneath, which appeared to be unaffected by the fire. Now in stocking feet, she padded back toward the dash. C2 gathered the objects up and departed back through the doorway. 

She noticed that a light had started flashing on the dash. “Corso, what’s the word?”

“We got a problem.”

Eva bowed her head, rubbing her forehead. “Handle it.”

“No, it’s a situation you handle.”

“What?” Eva coughed again as she sat down hard in her chair. 

Corso sighed. “They want the captain. To see you.”

Eva’s eyes shuttered themselves. “What?” she said with an angry edge. 

“They want to see the captain of the ship before they come with us.” 

Eva’s voice rose in pitch. “Seriously!? Their rock is going to blow, and they want a bloody welcome as if I’m cruise ship captain?” She scowled out the window at the theoretical Mandalorians she was supposed to be loading onto her ship. 

“Some of them don’t trust Akaavi – the ones that are with Clan Spar are on the way back to you already. It’s the people they intermarried with that want to see you.”

“How many are we talking about?”

Corso groaned. “Yeah, that’s the other thing. There are twenty from Clan Spar alone. The other group is fifteen or so.”

Eva spat a rather colorful string of obscenities that almost made Theron blush from his seat on the couch. That was … illustrative. “That’s double what they told Akaavi.” 

“She’s not happy about this either.”

“Well, if they aren’t coming, I guess Clan Spar lives and they die.” Eva rapped her first on a wall panel.

“Cap –” Corso cut in, somehow making that single syllable into three.

“Don’t ‘Cap’ me. My responsibility is to get my crew off this rock alive. I’m not risking you all for them. Get everyone moving back here, including yourself.”

“Alright then.” Corso sounded displeased, but he obeyed. 

Eva hit the switch and flipped off the comm light. Another cough rattled her as she leaned back in her chair, hands to her face. Initially, they covered her eyes before slipping down to let her fingertips rest atop her cheeks, mouth still covered. She stayed like that for a few minutes, before the hands dropped and she began to run engine diagnostics. Green lights abounded – they were going to get liftoff. 

A thump was heard somewhere behind her, and a door opened and shut. Not moving her gaze from the engine check, Eva blindly reached to hit the ship comm. “Bowie, can you give me an opinion on the scanners? Seismic info and clearance for take-off.” 

A long series of moans, roars, and grunts came in response. “So what sort of window are we talking about here?” A much brief explanation ensued. “25 minutes, huh. I hope it’s enough”

Abruptly she got up and went to a closet behind the copilot’s chair. She dragged out a pair of ankle-high boots and laced them on immediately. She pulled a collar-less black button down shirt and draped it over the co-pilot’s headrest. She also pulled out her pistol as well as its mate – she didn’t run with both of them, typically. She carefully placed them on the copilot’s dashboard. She reached back into the closet and pulled out a large hunting knife and scabbard. 

Bowdaar came in through the door. A few grunts and he gestured at the closet. The signal was now clear enough for Theron’s implants to translate. “What are you doing? You’re not going out in that.”

“You’re right. Beskar is a girl’s best friend.” She pulled out a beskar vest, the sort that was meant to be worn right to the skin to protect against blaster shots at close range. It was not obvious, unless you knew exactly what a beskar vest looked like. Most people did not, as beskar was a prized Mandalorian material. Theron idly wondered where she had acquired it. 

His idle wondering screeched to a halt as she suddenly pulled her t-shirt off over her head, leaving her in her bra. He choked on the sip of whiskey he had just taken. Ok, not expected. What--

Bowdaar squawked at her indignantly. “That is not what I meant. Are you crazy?”

She spoke to Bowie as she pulled the vest on and secured it at the side. “No, I’m not crazy. We have 23 minutes until we need to go. I’ll see what I can do while I’m out there.” She grabbed her shirt and pulled it on over the vest, fingers flying over the buttons. She tucked the shirt into her utility pants.

Another growl from the Wookiee. “They’re not going to like you more just because you have beskar.” 

“They might not respect the vest, but I’m going armed. I’ll be fine.” 

The Wookiee continued to yell at her as she strapped herself into a shoulder holster and grabbed her pistols. “We have less than 22 minutes to get off this god-forsaken rock and you’re going off to meet the neighbors. What is wrong with you? Mandos are stubborn fools with no sense of mortality – they kill themselves for giggles. You don’t need to impress them.” 

She hooked the scabbard to her belt and closed it with a click. “You done yet?” she asked as she grabbed her respirator off the co-pilot’s chair. 

One more agitated growl from the Wookiee. “Your hair looks awful.”

“Yes, I know. They can get over it.” 

Eva pushed past the Wookiee and disappeared into the bowels of the ship. The Wookiee barked down the hall one last time – it apparently was just an expression of frustration, as the implants did not translate it. Distantly Eva’s voice said something, which caused Bowdaar to turn his head to snap at the dash log. Apparently, it responded to his commands in Shyriiwook, as the holo cut out.

Next holo. 

“Captain’s log, supplemental. This here is First Mate Corso. The Captain’s been gone for fifteen minutes.” Corso spoke from his perch on the co-pilot’s chair, slightly dusty but no worse for wear. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Risha stuck her head into the cockpit. “Yes, we are. You know what she said on the way out. And what the hell was the point of doing this if we let the people we rescued die here anyway?” 

Before Corso could retort, three loud raps echoed across the ship’s hull. “Open up. Got my hands full,” came a familiar voice over the ship comm.

Risha disappeared through the doorway. Distantly, Theron could hear her snapping at Eva. “We were worried!”

“So was the Wookiee, and I still don’t care.”

“Did you get them all, at least?”

Eva appeared in the doorway, taking off her respirator and tossing it to Corso. “No.”

Corso caught the mask effortlessly. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” 

Eva began doing pre-flight checks even as she was standing. “One of them pulled a blaster on me. I outdrew him and shot him the leg. That’s the dumbass at the end of the line. He’s like 15 or something – _kaysh mirsh solus_.”

Theron’s implants roughly translated that as “his braincells are lonely.” He let out a short laugh.

Eva sped through the checks. “Ok, we’re moving. Let’s get out of here.” She flipped the ship comm on. “ _K'oyacyi!_ ” she warned the Mandalorians. 

Corso was staring at the screen. “Cap, I see them.”

“Are they moving?” Eva cast a wild glance in Corso’s direction.

“No.” 

She let out of a puff of breath as she hit the engine launch. “I can’t do anything about that.” 

The camera jolted as the XS took off from the asteroid and there was some bouncing as Eva steered it out of the artificial atmosphere. Guss stepped into the cockpit. “We have debris on scanners –”

A screen flashed up next to Eva. “I see ‘em. Hold tight.”

The next few minutes were tense as Eva piloted the XS out and away from the mining debris field. A pretty agile freighter, the XS typically didn’t fare as well as smaller vessels or larger ones that could blast their way through. That didn’t seem to be the case here, as the pilot entered an almost trance-like state. The cockpit was silent as the captain did her work. There were a few acrobatic moments, but otherwise, departure appeared smooth. “We’re clear,” called out Guss, and everyone in the cockpit and nearby environs collectively exhaled. Except Eva. She remained transfixed until the computer beeped at her, prompting for a switch to automatic control.

The spell broken, Eva ceded control to the autopilot. She shook her head as if she was still waking up, then reached underneath her side of the pilot’s panel and grabbed a small box. 

“That bad, huh?” Corso asked.

Eva had pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She tamped the pack a few times on her wrist before pulling one of the long cylinders out and lighting up. “Yeah.” 

Corso let her take a few puffs to get it started. “What happened?”

Eva coughed. “I showed up. They didn’t trust me, even after seeing me. Wouldn’t come, no matter what I said.” Despite her coughing, she continued her vice. 

Corso rolled her eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t have shot the kid.”

Eva gestured with her cigarette toward the back of the ship. “That actually convinced seven of them to come with me – don’t take guff from dumb kids. There were eight that just wouldn’t budge.” 

Corso made a ‘heh’ noise – not quite a laugh, but not a noise of disapproval either. “Adults?”

Eva took a particularly deep drag before answering, smoke flowing out of her nostrils as if she were an old dragon. “I wasn’t going to rip children away from their parents, Corso. Their kids, their decisions.” She nudged a panel with her knee and popped open an ashtray for herself.

“Maker,” Corso softly murmured to himself. 

Guss spoke up from the station behind her. “Boss, it’s going. We really just got out in time…” 

Eva closed her eyes for a few moments, then reopened them. “Life signs?”

“They’re not moving. At all.” 

Eva stuck the cigarette into her mouth so she could use both hands to look over the data herself.

Corso turned his seat to watch her. “I hate it when you smoke.”

“So do I. But I don’t drink and fly. Besides, Death won a bit today. Would be rude not to give him a bit of myself, the loser.”

“But you won, today, Cap. You got twenty-seven people off that rock.” 

Guss called from his position by the wall. “It’s broken up, Eva. They’re all gone. And we need to move – I’m seeing some signs of a patrol coming out, not sure if it’s Rep or Imp doing mop up.” 

She nodded, face grim as the cigarette released wisps of smoke into the cockpit. “Not enough, Corso. I didn’t win enough.” She reached over and flicked the switch for the hyperspace engines. “Jumping.” 

“They never moved—” 

The holo cut out as Eva thumbed the log button. 

Theron realized he was cold, sitting on his couch in the dark. The sun had set long ago. He finally reached up to flip the lights on in his living room, and he asked the thermostat to move up two degrees. He sent one more swallow of whisky down his throat, the burn granting him a flicker of warmth.

Next holo.

Eva. Captain’s Chair. Cigarette pack demonstrably more empty than before. The entire cockpit was hazy from the smoke. She spoke Mando’a, that same stilted, careful presentation. It wasn’t melodic to the ears. It was accurate as to what it wanted to convey. In the language, she revealed the identities of the dead – five children, three adults. She also indicated that the Mandos they’d picked up needed medical care – they’d been on that rock too long without proper heating and adequate water. There was a non-aligned hospital ship halfway across the rim that Eva was aiming for – they would be there and then move on to the next covert location. The Mandalorians seeking them would know the place.

That was all Eva said about what would happen to her cargo next. She did not give their names, as they were still alive and still in danger. She looked as if she was about to finish the entry when there was a knock. “Come.”

Akaavi. “Hey, close the door behind you – I don’t want this seeping out down where the kids are. Bad for them. Bad for me too, but whatever.”

Akaavi did as she was told, then stood at attention at the door. Eva jerked her head to the side slightly. “Sit.”

Akaavi sat in the co-pilot’s seat primly, back straight, hands on lap. “I wanted to come to thank you and render payment.” Eva began to pull another cigarette out of the pack. One left now. She wordlessly offered it to the Mandalorian. Akaavi hesitated then finally took it. “I have been informed that payment is not necessary by Risha, because the crew discount is absolute and all inclusive.”

“It is,” Eva simply replied. She lit up, and then she moved to light Akaavi’s cigarette for her. The Mandalorian hesitated again and then offered the cigarette to Eva. Theron could see a small smile from behind the smoke, dark eyes glittering through the haze. “If you want to smoke it, it goes in the mouth, draw in a few times. Don’t inhale the smoke, just pretend you’re drinking from a straw to get it started.” 

Once the cigarette was lit, the inevitable choke and coughing fit followed. “This is… awful.”

Eva nodded. “I don’t usually. It’s bad for you. But smugglers don’t care about the diseases of old age and old habits.” Eva took a drag. “You don’t have to smoke. I burn it for the smell sometimes.”

Akaavi held the cigarette at arm’s length. “Why, by the Maker, would you do that?”

Again, the small smile. “Dad. Reminds me of him, so I’ll burn a few once in a while when I really miss him. Besides, these are actually nice cigs – they smell comparatively good to some of the other drekk on the market.” 

Akaavi shook her head. “No. Thank you, though.” A few beats of silence. “Corso said you smoke because people died.”

The end of the cigarette flared. “I have a strange sense of spirituality, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yes, yes, I have,” Akaavi answered quickly.

“Smoke in ritual is used to denote the presence of spirits. Air that is normally invisible is visible through whatever is being burned.” Again, Eva exhaled through her nose, as if she were a far larger dragon than she already was. “The fact it’s bad for me – I give a little of myself to Death, the only real spiritual authority in smuggler life. You die, no more smuggling. You ward him off by acknowledging your own stupid luck. And the misfortune of others.” 

She flicked some ash into her tray, then reached to Akaavi’s side of the cockpit to open up her ashtray. Akaavi flicked her ash into her tray. That was easier. 

“You saved much of my remaining clan. For that, I thank you.” 

Eva acknowledged her from the other side of a wall of smoke. “I wish I could have done more.” She frowned, deeply. “Five kids.”

“Three _atin_ _di’kutse_.” Three stubborn fools. “You were right not to separate them. The others would have not come if you had.” 

Eva shook her head. The thought of the dead children was obviously eating at her, as she took another drag. 

“Have you recorded the necessary message?” Akaavi pointed to the dash log which was still recording.

“Yes. If you wanted to add anything, feel free.”

Akaavi looked at the holo, then shook her head. “I’ll pass it through the other Mando’ad.” Akaavi examined the cigarette in her hand. “Why do people smoke these? Other than your reasons?”

“There’s nicotine in there – gives you a tiny buzz but it doesn’t muddle you like alcohol or make you incoherent like spice or death sticks. It takes the edge off when I can’t drink. Also, dumb party tricks.”

Akaavi arched an eyebrow. Eva chuckled and took a drag off the cigarette. Silently, she gestured at her mouth and throat – don’t swallow. Hold it. Exhale.

And then Eva showed off, blowing smoke hoops across the cockpit. Another drag. This time, a heart shaped hoop, with Eva finishing off the illusion with a short, narrow puff through pursed lips – creating the arrow. 

Despite herself, Akaavi’s breath caught, almost in a giggle. Eva grinned. “If you think that’s cool, I knew a guy who played euphonium for an orchestra. Huge lungs. He could make an entire dartboard of smoke and then strike a bullseye with the last puff. But yeah, at the end, dumb party tricks while you’re killing yourself.” 

Akaavi shook her head, a smile threatening her lips the entire time. “I’ve changed my mind. I would like to speak.” Addressing the dash log, Akaavi spoke in Mando’a, fluently. It was a far more beautiful noise than Eva’s halting and awkward attempts – this was the way the language should always be spoken. 

“Mando’ad can trust Captain Eva Corolastor. She treasures the living and remembers the dead. What she lacks in honor, she atones through deeds. We include all of this for truth.” Aha. The cache, unedited, was the trust token. She looked to Eva. “You know the remembrance?”

“It won’t sound as pretty as yours, but yeah.” Eva straightened up in her seat as she and Akaavi spoken in unison. “ _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_.” Silence. Then Eva spoke alone again. “End log.” Theron caught a small glimpse of Akaavi raising her cigarette to her mouth. 

“"I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” 

Theron stretched in his seat on the couch before getting up to hit the head. 

As he took care of business, he considered that the Mandalorian cache was worth the trouble. Now he knew the XS needed repairs. Via the implants, he started a search for all repair jobs, particularly launch engines, that involved the light freighter class and that would probably be paid in direct credit transfers. He also added parameters relating to flap repair, in case the Wookiee’s patch work didn’t hold. 

She got the mission done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was done. Can’t save everyone. As one of his other contacts stated, good habits for not dying. 

Smuggler. Criminal. Decent human being. Another valuable fact, Theron concluded as he washed his hands.

As he dried them, he made careful note that the Mando wouldn’t give her up either. Not quite a Wookiee life debt, but the Mando knew she owed her. If the SIS burned this woman, five different types of hell would descend on them, one from each shipmate. They could not afford to screw this up, if they entered into this partnership. 


	6. Oracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The work that Theron hates the most has been left for last. Theron still can't see her. And his stomach is understandably upset.
> 
> Eva, as always, seems to turn out fine by the end.

Theron shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to rearrange the dent he’d made by sitting there for literally hours nonstop. He was also disquieted by what he had left to do tonight. His pet peeve of intel gathering was analyzing still holos of unknowing subjects. He felt like a voyeur. They were not the same as holo images that were caught by public security cameras, where people knew and understood that the security forces could see them. They were not the same as captain’s logs when the recorder knew someone would view these entries eventually.

Still holos could have a more troublesome provenance than footage with timestamps. There was the added complication that she was a female person of interest and he was a male agent reviewing her information. However, he was the one seeking an external actor for a set of SIS missions. He had to know if she could be handled by SIS. 

Theron tapped firmly on the screen. Into the breach, then. The first series of still holos came out of Nar Shaddaa casinos. Theron had to stare for a moment at the dark image, but he eventually picked her out at the pazaak table. This was older – her hair was short, bobbed neatly at the jawline. There was entire pile of shots like this, but they were from different times and different gambling establishments. Typically lurking at pazaak, she had some interest in sabacc but not nearly as much.

There were two clusters of these still holos where Darmas Pollaran accompanied her. He was an excellent card player himself, but apparently, Eva was even better, at least at pazaak. First cluster, early days, short hair. Pollaran was surprised at how good she was, and she wore a perpetual smirk, exuding youthful arrogance as she pulled down another respectable win from the house. There was a verbal exchange between the two, and it culminated in Eva giving him a grin that lit up the darkness of the casino, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

There was a wide gap between one photo and the next – she’d avoided Nar Shadaa for quite awhile after liberating the Killer fro—Bowdaar, Theron corrected himself. Most of the time, she appeared to accompanied by Risha Drayen on these excursions – and they never had to pay for drinks, judging by the men that filtered by them periodically. In terms of clothes, she appeared to dress more on-trend compared to her business wardrobe – Risha was a bit more daring that Eva was, but Theron could understand why someone would look twice. And buy her six drinks and two meals, as one poor guy did one night. 

Pollaran had met Risha during one of those later excursions. He appeared to act every bit the gentlemen, shaking her hand and not looking at her ass when both Eva and Risha turned to go to the bar. There were a lot of pretty women at the casinos – some were gamblers themselves, others were shopping themselves as trophy wife material. The cameras never caught Pollaran looking at anyone but Eva.

The human trafficking network Pollaran had run proved that, without any doubt, that he had been looking, finding, abducting, and selling – directly or indirectly. He was so very skilled at his trade, a casual observer – or even a professional one looking through the holo screen -- would never catch him in the act. 

Theron wasn’t sure if it was too much whiskey and not enough food or if it was too late to be doing this sort of work, but he felt a sour feeling in his gut as Pollaran wrapped his arms around Eva from behind, kissing her neck as she tapped the table one last time and won a massive pot of credits. The house dealer even sent up a little show of electronic fireworks for her. 

And Eva had thought she and Pollaran were real.

And maybe they had been. Before she, being observative, subtle, and ultimately brutally honest with herself – before she figured out his game and exposed him to the galaxy as an Imperial agent and human trafficker. Had she gone along with it, had she not been a decent human being, she’d probably be with Darmas still, far more than his moll. She too would have been an Imperial asset. 

The last of the casino intel was recent – within six months. Gone was the braid from Makeb. Hair was lopped to just past the shoulders. Much neater than the cut C2 gave her, so probably within the last four months, assuming the data drop had been about six months ago. She apparently had a good night on the tables. Signed in as EC, she’d won a champion’s purse. On impulse, Theron pulled up the list of tournament winnings at the major casinos in the galaxy and had the computer scan for possible “EC” entries. 

A few chirps later, Theron realized she was probably making more money per year in gambling than he was working a regular job. He expanded the search parameters. Well, the latest win placed her winnings over his earnings, but in prior years, she’d made a more modest income. What was crazy to him was that she technically did not have be in the smuggling world, given her card table talents. Yet there she was, in the thick of things, managing a criminal empire. 

Somehow, through the fog of the late night and Corellian whiskey, Theron had an idea. He set the computer to monitor for all major pazaak tournaments in the next few months to see if EC registered. That might catch her or at least narrow down where he had to look. 

Next set of photos was Eva at breakfast in Coruscant. If he didn’t know better, he would guess she was someone’s secretary stopping at her favorite café prior to going to work. She sat at an outdoor table, mostly shaded by a canopy. The green suit fit well, and her attention appeared to be fully absorbed in a daily datapad as she munched on a pastry. Her caf sent out a tiny puff of steam in each shot. She wore stockings and heels, legs crossed, right foot toying with slipping the shoe on and off…but never letting it touch the ground. She appeared to be completely unaware that, during the course of the holo still progression, a man left a bag by the table. She let it set there for approximately 20 minutes before she used her foot to hook it toward her, as Theron had seen other women do with their bags in public places. Another 20 minutes passed before she picked it up and left. The photos followed her all the way down the street until she turned a corner. 

Theron took a moment to analyze the drop man. After what he’d watched earlier, it was easy to identify him as Darmas Pollaran, wearing a suit and solar frames – he didn’t look like the nightlife underlord he usually was. This seemed to be from earlier days between the two.

The next set of photos unsettled him. This….this was the type of intel he didn’t like to receive. It wasn’t a sex photo, and Theron couldn’t see any obvious signs that it was a pre/post sex photo either. But it was certainly an intimate photo, a private moment between two people. Corolastor lay out in the grass, propping herself upright on her side with an arm. She wore her boots, light trousers, and an off-white button-down shirt, which was mostly unbuttoned, revealing a deep purple camisole or undershirt - the beskar vest was cast aside. Her attention was fixed on her companion, a Voss, who was talking animatedly from his perch inside a tent not far from her. Theron could see him gesturing throughout the picture progression, which was not typical of the serene Voss. Corolastor’s expression revealed that she was listening, that she was worried or concerned. Theron tilted his head as he gazed at her. Was she sad? Possibly. The Voss was evidently distressed over something. The sequence ended when Eva turned her head, apparently saw the camera, and pointed it out to the Voss. Theron could see the “hey!” crossing her lips as she gave the camera a wary – weary? -- look.

Attached to this set of visuals was a tribunal transcript. Eva had been charged with smuggling illegal beasts, venturing into the Nightmare Lands, dealing with the Gormak, and corrupting a government official. The first charge was a potential capital crime, but she was cleared of it. The lesser crimes – guilty. All of the charges. Including the “corrupting the moral health” of an official – namely, Lokir-Ka, her contact with the Voss government for the mission. The judge went on a bit of tirade as Lokir, objected to the lesser charges–

Theron stopped short. The adjudicator was Mirev-Ka. Lokir’s wife. Yikes.

Theron flipped ahead in the transcript. In adjudicators’ chambers, there had been a private talk whether the wife should adjudicate the case, but given that the “corruption” was not directly related to the state of the marriage, the Voss permitted her to sit on the case. In short, those two _weren’t_ accused of adultery, though the crime would have been tried the same way –corruption of an official.

Eva hadn’t kowtowed in the case – she indicated she had no shame for the work she had done there, and she refused to state that Lokir had any role in the other crimes. 

Follow-up on Voss revealed that Lokir had been ordered by his wife Mirev-Ka to make a pilgrimage to purge the outsider influence from him. He did so a week after Eva left. But there were two shipments from the smuggler to him. Both were omnibus editions of love poetry from different star systems. In more conservative societies, they were sold from the back of a store, with a black seal on them. There was nothing visually or literally obscene, but words in the right mouth – or from the right hand – could be pretty steamy.

Theron’s brain whirred for a moment as he pulled up both the Voss pictures and the CorSec footage. He zoomed in on her face as she went to chase after Pollaran, which was not long after the venture on Voss. As Eva listened to Lokir, someone she sent love poetry to later….she wore the same expression of …betrayal? Sorrow? Dread. It was dread. 

The smuggler had figured it all out before she came to Corellia. She _knew_ she had been betrayed. She _knew_ Pollaran was likely going to burn her and her crew, throw them to the dogs. She _knew_ he didn’t love her. And she dreaded the inevitable confrontation. 

The shock had come from the fact he would have let the crowd lynch her. 

The sour feeling in Theron’s stomach returned, and he shut down the CorSec footage. No more.

Theron was relieved that he could chuckle at the next series of stills. These were innocuous – unpurchased photos from tourist traps on Alderaan, specifically the ski lodge. Helpfully, they were stamped with the date of the visit: three months ago. Odds were looking up that she was still alive. However, that was only about a quarter of the stills in the pile. The rest were apparently from a camera that had been left behind at the lodge. Same visit, less staged. 

Eva’s nose and cheeks were red from the cold, hair wet as she stood with her crew, equally disheveled and grinning – even Akaavi. The Wookiee was soaked, a hilarious image within itself, and they were likely laughing at that as much as they were their own looks. He flipped through the images, and there had apparently been a vicious snowball fight with her crew. One great shot had Akaavi being lobbed through the air by the Wookiee to pelt Risha and Eva with snow, while Corso charged a terrified Guss, who was trying to keep himself and what appeared to be a hot drink dry away from the chaos. 

Yeah, that didn’t end well for Guss.

At some point, the fight had become boys vs. girls, and there were a few shots of Risha and Eva pressed up against a wall of snow. Apparently, they were discussing how safe it was to set off low-end explosives under the snow when the boys charged their fort, while Akaavi actually set the charges. This was established when Corso was sent sky high with one misstep. The camera caught his face as he landed – laughing. Akaavi had a remarkably smug look on her face, while the rest were divided between hilarity, shock, and concern that Corso had broken his back, which he apparently hadn’t as he got up to chase after Akaavi. 

Another two identifiable people entered the stills about midway through, equally damp and destroyed from the snowball fight. Theron squinted and realized that they were Lenn and Cedonia Teraan, two siblings in exile. He could see Eva merrily smashing Cedonia in the face with a pile of packed snow. Apparently, they’d brought them back for a brief visit, as the siblings were now on Coruscant, waiting out their exile. The camera may have been theirs, as they showed up in fewer photos than the crew. 

The last few shots were of the bunch defrosting in the ski lodge, hot drinks all around. Corso was asleep on the couch, and Guss was practically sitting in the fire trying to get warm. Mon Calimari were always cold, seemingly. Bowdaar and Eva were playing some sort of board game on the floor with Guss. Theron couldn’t see the board from the camera’s angle. Risha stood and spoke with Cedonia – one exiled queen to another exile noble. Teraan must have been taking the stills on this. 

In the midst of this domestic scene, Akaavi was happily and quietly making new explosive charges to replace the ones spent in the snowball fight. One of the last shots in the sequence was a smiling Eva calling Akaavi over to play the board game. Judging from the supplies on the table and his own experience in bomb-making, Akaavi had reached a logical stop point and was obliging her captain with only with a tiny bit of reluctance.

Theron’s gaze lingered on Eva as she waited for Akaavi to join them, holding a steaming mug of something hot, back leaning up against the couch, not far from Corso’s sleeping head, surrounded by her friends, displaced royals, thieves, gladiators, and murderers alike. All things considered, Eva would be quite a person to know in private life. 

Theron startled himself with that thought and looked at his whiskey tumbler. Empty, and it had been for quite awhile. No more. Too much. And too late – his chrono read 1:45 AM, and he still had to be at the office tomorrow. Theron closed out of his datapads before pushing himself to his feet to stagger to bed. 

His sleep was restless, as the taste of alcohol and the feel of snow prickled him throughout the night, a lady with dark hair leading him on a chase through a room with many doors, each door opening to reveal another variation of her – but not the real lady. 


	7. The Unusual Suspects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron is put on the spot by Darok to justify his pick of the Smuggler to the exclusion of our other 7 heroes, while Marcus Trant has his own concerns about this whole scheme.

When Theron came to work the next day, he knew he was going to be yelled at. Not because he was sleep-deprived and slightly hung over (though that would eventually come), but rather, his datapad had demanded his presence at a meeting at Trant’s office. Colonel Darok had filed a complaint over the entire SIS process for vetting the external actor for the Korriban raid. 

As he strolled into the room, Darok turned to glare at him. “Welcome to the meeting, Shan.”

Theron tapped his implants. “I’m on time. I know I am. The trooper definition of ‘on time’ is fifteen minutes early – different standard.” 

A long-suffering sigh escaped Director Trant from behind his desk. “Colonel Darok has expressed his concerns that you’re making the selection process for the Korriban incursion far more complicated than it has to be. He also says you have an utterly impractical favorite.” 

Theron knew that was coming, and he felt the corners of his mouth turn upward. “I politely disagree. May I?” Trant swiveled his chair to look at the large screen in his office. 

With a few manipulations of implants, Theron projected the files from his datapad onto the screen. A map of the Sith Academy appeared on screen. “The Korriban Incursion is slated to happen within the next three months. The objective is to obtain sensitive data from the Sith Academy, specifically from the Chambers of the Dark Council. In order to avoid compromise in case of catastrophic mission failure – that would be the operative being captured and tortured – the SIS has determined that the best person for the job would be someone not directly attached to Republic intelligence who essentially would have no information about the larger operation beyond what they were supposed to do at Korriban. However, the operative would need specialized skills in order to successfully infiltrate and exfiltrate with the data. Basically, we need high quality cannon fodder.” 

Theron flipped to the next file. “Several external actors have been identified that could execute this with reasonable certainty. There have been recommendations made by Colonel Darok and even by Supreme Commander Malcom and Grand Master Shan. However, these nominees do not come without caveats.” 

The images appeared on the screen as Theron described them to his audience of two. First, a Jedi knight in hooded robes with a distinctly electric blue light sabre. “The Hero of Tython is a Jedi reverential title for the Jedi knight who killed the Sith emperor about two years ago. While he does have a droid, a T7 model, that has possibly evolved beyond its set protocols and can slice nearly anything, the Hero himself is a magnet for the Sith. Because of his achievement, any warrior that hears of his presence on Korriban will be looking for him in an effort to avenge their Emperor and simply make a name for themselves as the Slayer of the Hero of Tython. In my opinion, if we were to recruit and deploy the Hero of Tython for this mission, we would best do so as a distraction. There are rumors that a member of the Dark Council, Darth Nox, is currently excavating the Tomb of Naga Sadow. Sending the Hero of Tython there would draw attention away from the Council Chamber itself, improving the success for the actual infiltrator. This feint would best be achieved in cooperation with Havoc Squad.”

A strong blond woman with aristocratic features appeared on screen. “Havoc Squad’s commander is impressive by herself, but she works best with a group that is as loyal to her as it is to the Republic. However, deploying Havoc Squad to the Sith Academy would be like dropping a grenade in a barrel – big boom in small space, we may do more damage to our mission than we make progress. The unit lacks the stealth and the equipment needed to infiltrate. The goal here is not to destroy the Academy, just to extract information and use it here before the Sith know what hit them. I’d recommend using them as a response to anti-aircraft guns and clearing a path to the Academy itself. They can establish a perimeter for when the second wave comes through.” 

The next image was a female Jedi consular with piercing purple eyes as a close-cropped haircut. “The Barsen’thor – the Warden of the Jedi Order – is most famous for redeeming Lord Vivicar from the Sith. Her healing powers are not in dispute. She is certainly no slouch in combat either. However, the Barsen’thor is best kept in reserve on the ground after the landing zone has been secured by Havoc Squad. She is an expert in not only healing, but she has a keen tactical mind. She is perfect for managing the battle behind the lines and evacuating the wounded as needed. I don’t think stealing is up her alley in terms of specialized skills.”

Theron shifted his weight as he projected three images onto the screen. “This leaves us with three non-traditional options that have no formal loyalty to Empire or Republic, but the SIS has established sufficient connections and gathered intelligence to indicate they would complete the job as requested, probably with half pay up front at minimum.”

One picture was zoomed in. “Imperial Agent Cipher 9. He specializes in infiltration and collection of intelligence. He has had access to the Black Codex, the most powerful intelligence tool in the galaxy. Unfortunately, attempts to confirm whether or not he was a double agent resulted in the death of Ardun Kothe’s team in its entirety. However, since then, Cipher 9 has been given his burn notice by the Empire. We think we can reach him again, but that’s not certain. I recommend against using Cipher 9 unless we are truly desperate. He’s already burned SIS once.”

Second picture overlapped the first. “The Grand Champion of the Great Hunt. Bounty hunter by trade, easily reached through the Cartel Bazaar via his associate Mako. Perfect record on contracts – you agree, you pay, he brings you what you want, regardless of your affiliation. The problem with that is that former Supreme Chancellor Janarus framed him for the murder of his associates and put an astronomically high, historically unprecedented bounty on his head. This ultimately led to Janarus’ assassination by the Grand Champion, which is a bit of a dark mark on his reputation in the Republic, should his involvement in this ever come to light. But who knows, maybe people don’t hold grudges.” 

“Shan.” One word from Trant was all it took for Theron to get back to business.

The Dark Lady from the Corellia footage loomed large on the screen. “This is who Colonel Darok has referred to as my utterly impractical favorite. The Voidhound, best smuggler in the galaxy. She gained the title after offing the Voidwolf, Imperial Admiral and former best smuggler in the galaxy. She does lean Republic, though I don’t think she is a member of Chancellor Saresh’s fan club after she was slightly stiffed on her pay from Makeb. That issue was recently resolved, however. She does run her own smuggler’s fleet, which may mean she turns us down cold. We pay her enough, though, we get her, a crew of various experts, and we get her ship – an unregistered XS Light.” 

The ship’s image popped up. “Sometimes it is registered and we end up pulling over nuns by accident, but for the most part, this ship is a ghost. It is heavily retrofit, nearly unidentifiable. The Sith Empire will be looking for Republic vessels to fire on, and part of the mission here is to secure the intelligence and bring it back here. Using a ghost ship means she doesn’t trip their radar, which may buy enough time for the mission to be completed. We know she can infiltrate and exfiltrate, based upon her success with the King’s Ransom. In short, if we want something taken off-world without anyone noticing, I think she can do it for the right price. Most of the actors who have struck against her were ultimately Imperial agents, not SIS. We haven’t burned her. That makes her more viable than Cipher 9 or the Grand Champion.”

Theron crossed his arms in front of him. “Any questions?”

Colonel Darok was quietly fuming. Theron figured he’d called this snap meeting on the assumption that Theron wouldn’t be prepped until later this week. Apparently, staying up late and drinking turned out to be good life choices after all. “Agent Shan, your pick is a criminal.”

“A dependable criminal who had her record expunged by Saresh on Keylander Station as part of her terms of service. She isn’t a criminal now. Technically, she operates outside the law but doesn’t break it.” 

“And we all know how flexible the law can be when powerful people will it,” Trant spoke up from behind his desk. He rose to his feet and rounded his desk to stand over Darok. “Colonel, Agent Shan makes a good case for the Voidhound, and he’s made valid points about the other nominees – including those that we would expect some deference to. Again, as he says, she might turn you down cold, and then you get the second choice of your choosing – how’s that sound?”

Theron realized belatedly that Trant had just bargained to ensure Corolastor got the job. One problem.

Colonel Darok was now turning red in the face. “Does Agent Shan know how to contact this smuggler? How soon can we actually get this mission on the ground? Are we going to wait another six months for some secretive Mandalorian cache to be cracked?”

That was the problem. “I’ve got connections at her regular gambling route. I’ll likely catch up with her at the next major pazaak tournament on Nar Shadaa this month or when her ship comes to Fleet for repairs – the Mandalorian cache revealed that her ground launch engine suffered damage. Based on what I found last night, she had the launch engine replaced at Alderaan three months ago, but they’ve partly refunded her because there was some sort of incompatibility between the engine and the XS interface. It works, just not up to her standard. She’s due to meet the third party at Republic Fleet to get things put to right. She hasn’t come in. Yet.” He hoped they bought it. 

They did. Colonel Darok rose to leave, shaking his head. “So this is your official recommendation, Shan?”

Theron nodded, “Yes, it is.”

“Got a name for her?” 

Theron fought to hide the smirk that threatened to overrun his face. “I’ll look it up, send it over to you. Smugglers don’t live long, so who knows, you might get your pick anyway.”

Darok stiffly nodded. “Cipher 9 is my pick. I don’t hear anything from you in a month, I will be making contact with him.” He marched out. 

Theron leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, and looked at Trant as the door shut behind Darok. “That guy seems overeager to raid the Sith Academy. Like he has his own schedule. It must be done by – whenever.” 

Trant busied himself by rearranging the limited knick-knacks on his desk. “I can’t say that it doesn’t concern me either. He’s been aggressive, even as far as army guys go.” 

Theron focused his gaze on the carpet, tracing the weave with his eyes. “Think I need to put eyes on him?”

“Not yet. But I can keep my eyes on him better than you can anyway.” 

Theron’s eyebrows rose slightly. The Director was concerned enough --

Trant stepped back toward his desk. “I will say, Shan, you’ve exerted a lot of energy on tracking this smuggler – mostly your own,” he finished pointedly. 

Theron could feel Trant analyzing the dark circles under his eyes and the dehydrated state he was in. Theron shrugged. “It’s done. Just have to get in touch, see what she says.”

“I’m happy you’re not wasting my resources, though I do wonder whether the SIS needs long term knowledge of pseudo-Mandalorian smut films.” There was the topic shift Theron was waiting for, which meant he was being queued up to be bounced out the door. 

Theron put up his hands. “Hey, you promoted the guy. Not my problem that you didn’t read the fine print on my recommendation.”

Trant gave him such a smirk. “I did. Because it was a piece of work, in all senses of the phrase. My question is why you haven’t recruited the boyfriend yet.” 

Theron had to keep his laughter in check. “Says he’s eventually going to be the stay-at-home dad while Gary grinds it out here.”

“Seriously? Porn guy will be the stay-at-home dad?”

“He’s into it for artistic reasons.”

“Get out of my office, Shan.”

Theron walked out and decided to talk a stroll to a certain café and get a croissant and a steaming hot caf. This was all her fault, that he was discussing Mando exploitation porn with his boss before 10 am. Totally all her fault.


	8. Corralling the Captain and Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron Shan finally speaks to Eva Corolastor, though not without some help from his droid. He also receives insight on the dynamics between Captain and First Mate, a matter from which Risha makes a tidy stack of credits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters are a bit shorter, and I have used some of the dialogue from the cut scenes. However, much of it has been re-written. I do miss T3's dynamic with Theron (as well as the chaotic good of astromechs in general), so that has been expanded here. I also invested considerable time in figuring out how DOES Theron do that with his hair. 
> 
> One of my pet peeves playing the Smuggler was that the "How much are you paying me?" conversation doesn't come up until the job is done -- majorly OoC for the Smuggler. I can understand Jedi and other virtuous figures in the Alliance waiving pay, but the Voidhound? Nope. So Eva does haggle here, and Corso isn't thrilled about it. 
> 
> He's also not thrilled about other things, but you'll see.

The Smuggler was a no-show at the pazaak tables two weeks later. It was riding on the launch engines now. The third party vendor was still on Fleet, so she _had_ to come at some point. Surely he didn’t live there? Theron sent his T3 unit to prowl the Republic Fleet docks and to notify him if she appeared. The T3 unit was loaded up not only with Eva’s information but also Risha’s, in case they were working the double angle again. 

It was in the early morning of the third weekend of waiting that Theron was woken up by an insistent buzzing from his bedside table. His mussed head emerged from a fortress of sheets and overstuffed pillows, and an eye cracked open. He cursed the chrono – what soulless creature besides the droids was up at 6 am at the weekend? He fumbled for the datapad as his arm got tangled up in his bedding. He groggily sat up and swiped open the commlink between him and the droid. “Smuggler = Found = T3 call Agent Shan.”

Theron issued a voice command. “Show me. Do not approach yet.” The command processed for a moment, and then the holo camera of the droid flickered on. 

And there she was. Dark Lady persona on, scanning the Galactic Trade Network. She appeared to be alone. Perfect time for him to speak to her via holo, turn on the charm, wave credits around, set up a meet and greet in the Republic Fleet commander center --- 

And he was in his boxer briefs and in bed. 

Kriff. 

Theron bolted up from his bed. “T3, make sure she does not leave. Follow and intercept only if necessary. I need… 10 minutes.” 

With that, the datapad tumbled through the air onto the bed. Before T3 even affirmed his order, Theron had shucked off his shorts and had hit the fresher at top speed. He didn’t wait for it to warm up as he scrubbed in a race against the woman’s shopping speed. Stereotypically, this would not be a problem, but he knew she was like a one-woman tactical assault squad when it came to ‘shopping.’ The King’s Ransom was in, out, gone – and she’d taken the best pick of the goods, according to transmissions from her partners who were aggrieved. 

He rinsed himself off, grabbed a towel, and stood in front of the mirror to tend to his hair. Even as short as he kept it, the waves threatened to revolt at any moment and evolve into full-fledged curls. Upon meeting his father, he finally understood why, but Theron continued to have a fragile armed truce with his hair that was heavily policed by styling products. He also rehearsed the gimmick he was going to rattle off. 

Hair pomaded and spiked, Theron legged it to his closet. “Still there? Audio readout.”

“Moving = docks. T3 = stop her.”

Kriff kriff kriff kriff kriff kriiiiiiiiff oh good, I did wash that kriff kriff kriff kriiiiiiff

Shirt and jacket on, Theron pulled his trousers on, bouncing a bit to try to hurry the process along before he slammed his feet into his boots, no socks for now. At least he remembered to wear underwear. Speaking of which – yes, fly was zipped, this would not have gone well otherwise.

Suddenly a shrill electronic beep from Theron’s bed pierced the fog of the venting fresher. Theron darted to grab the datapad, and then his eyes widened.

Terror alert on Republic Fleet. 

All electricity had been shut off, minus life support. 

Theron’s comm link started to blow up, two and three calls coming at once. 

His Holonet inbox dumped a pile of mail through his implants, all high priority could-not-wait. All hands on de—

The realization hit Theron, and he grimaced. “Audio command: T3, what is the status of the asset?”

He could almost hear the droid’s perky beep. “Smuggler = stopped. T3 = successful.” 

“Did that involve shutting down all non-vital electrical in Republic Fleet?” Theron braced for impact.

“T3 = effective! No electricity = elevator shutdown.” He could imagine the droid bopping happily in place. 

Theron counted to ten, silently. “T3, please restore electricity and stop the asset.” After some hesitation, he continued. “Good work, but let’s not go that far next time. Try sending her like 16 Jawagrams or something.” 

“T3 = understand.” 

Another deluge of mail and comms came flooding through Theron’s devices, cancelling the terror alert and de-escalating the situation. 

And then came the reply-alls criticizing the system, questioning why that had to happen. And then someone hit reply-all to the reply-all –

Theron shut down his implants entirely. He needed to concentrate for this. She was going to read him, carefully.

“T3, ready when you are. Link me in.” Theron activated his holo projector in the living room and stood ready.

From T3’s POV, Theron got a good look at the smuggler’s gun belt as T3 gently bumped into her. “Hey, little guy.” A gloved hand came out to pat the astromech on the head, and Theron swore that T3 purred at her. 

Duly noted. “T3, she thinks you’re cute. Just do the cute thing to get to attention – no more acts of terror. Or Jawagrams.” 

Silently, T3 transmitted to Theron, “T3 = flattered.” The droid then rolled back in order for Theron to see his upcoming conversation partner. The large hat cast a shadow over her face, but he could see the space station’s light reflecting in her eyes. 

T3 started to beep and click at Captain Eva Corolastor. “You = act casual // T3-G2 = recruiting for classified operation.”

“Does it come with a paycheck?” Eva said quietly, checking her wrist comm unit. Or at least pretending to. 

“Affirmative.”

“Lay it on me.” Eva moved at an angle so that T3 projected toward a corner. She concealed herself in the shadows. This conversation was not for public consumption. A furtive glance around, and Eva gestured to the droid.

Showtime.

As Theron’s projected holo-image came to life, her face was fully illuminated, and she blinked to adjust to the sudden light. For a moment, he saw an eyebrow move, as if about to arch, but it was quickly checked. Eva Corolastor was seeing Theron Shan for the first time. Cool.

Eva settled into a kinder pazaak face than the one she normally wore to the gaming tables. She stood at ease, waiting for him to make his offer: listening, but giving the impression she was only humoring the speaker for her own amusement. 

_Don’t forget to talk, Shan._

“You’re not easy to find, Captain. But I imagine that’s a good thing in your line of work.”

A slight nod of the head. 

“I’m with the SIS. We’ve got a very special event coming up, and you’re on the guest list.” Theron hoped the line came off as cool. 

That was met with a single raised eyebrow. “What kind of ‘special event’?”

He had her by the curiosity. “The kind the Empire won’t enjoy.” Her lips parted as if say something, but she did not, only leaning back into a cautious curve of the lips upward. “Details when we meet in person – see you soon.” 

Theron cut the holo there. “Transmit meeting coordinates, date TBD, make it clear we want her ship too. I need to get a call out to Darok. I hope I came off as mysterious, not rude.” 

“T3 = cute.”

Great, now the droid was lovesick. “Just make sure she has the information or else you won’t see her again.”

“Transmission complete!”

Theron shook his head and let out a short laugh. Way too early for this. But at least now he got to rattle Darok out of bed or out of his calisthenics routine, at least. 

**

Two days later, Captain Eva Corolastor and Corso Riggs arrived to the command center exactly one minute early. Corso did not hide his wonder at all of the maps and battle plans that were on display. Eva, meanwhile, systematically scanned the room. Theron watched from the steps leading up to the main battle plan station as Darok wrapped up his simulation of Wave 1 of the incursion. He could see her brain working, putting together the star maps and then the terrain maps. He saw her make a face at the Sith Academy building. The pop of color today at her throat was a fitting red, even if she didn’t know it yet. 

“And then Wave 2 comes in. Perfect timing.” Theron stepped forward. Eva momentarily turned to call to Corso to get him to follow her up to the planning table, and then her eyes fixed on Theron.

Theron actually _felt_ her looking at him. She was intense. She walked around as if she was three meters taller than she actually was….which was somewhere between 1.5 and 1.75 meters, discounting the heels and lifts in the boots that she decided to wear today. He knew she was trying to throw him off. It was part of her standard method of operation. His green eyes met her dark brown ones in brief greeting, as an ally. No fight for dominance, no attempt at flirting. Just a non-verbal “hi.” 

What was disconcerting was that her eyes were flat – not literally, but no emotion, no energy. He knew that it was a gambling trick – some card sharks used contacts to achieve it. 

“You’re actually planning an attack on Korriban?” Eva cautiously asked as her eyes drifted over the strategic board.

Darok turned to her and almost seemed startled by the size of the creature that had asked him the question – she definitely projected a larger presence than she physically possessed. “Yes, and your part in the plan is critical.” To Darok’s credit, he wasn’t a sore loser about not getting his pick, in the long run, but Theron remained disquieted about his urgency to get the Korriban mission done.

Theron stepped forward. “This is Colonel Darok – he’s in charge of the op.” Eva gave him a nod, polite disinterest on display. “I’m Theron Shan, SIS. We met on the holo.” 

Theron was rewarded with a quirk of her lips. “Met your droid. T3 unit.” She stepped back to allow Corso into the circle. “Captain Eva Corolastor. This is First Mate Corso Riggs. I assume that if you want the ship, the crew needs a brief as well.” She paused, eyes darting between the two men, who quickly nodded their assent. Eva paused, as if considering her next words. “Do you know the name of the ship?”

“No. Ghost ship as far as the Republic is concerned.” It was true – Theron hadn’t been able to grab any transmission that directly referred to her ship as anything but “the Voidhound’s ship.”

She briskly nodded. “I’d prefer to keep it that way. Please proceed.”

Darok seemed satisfied by her businesslike and direct manner “Our objective is to raid the Sith Academy. Specifically, the databanks held inside the Dark Council chambers on the Academy’s upper level.”

“The information in those databanks could win the war. Once the first attack wave clears a landing area, it will be your job to go in and get them.” Theron zoomed in Darok’s map and pointed to a specific area a few hundred meters away from the Sith Academy. 

Eva nudged Corso. “I can land that. You?”

“I reckon. Siths give me the heebie jeebies.” 

“Don’t let it break your concentration.” Turning her face back up toward the two Republic officials, Eva asked, “And once we have the data? What then?”

“You will exfiltrate immediately and rendezvous back here. My associate, Commander Jensyn, will remain behind to collect secondary objectives as time allows.” Darok stood at ease. “Your ship won’t be noticed by the Empire as easily as marked Republic ones with registrations.”

Eva shifted her weight to straighten up and cross her arms. “This brings us to the paycheck part of this. You have a number for the down payment?”

Corso winced next to her. “Captain, it’s for the Republic.”

“To whom we’re not formally aligned and who only recently ponied up for previous work.” Eva was unmoved. “Let’s say I meet a well-heeled Sith lord while I’m down there – Marr.” She just dropped the name in casually, but Theron sensed her deliberateness and felt its impact as Darok drew to attention. Well-played. “He pays me to go away. He has better things to do than waste his lightsaber on me. What number am I keeping in mind as I haul my ass out of there?” 

Darok sharply turned to Theron, who already had the number up and offered her his datapad. She smoothly took it, incidentally brushing Theron’s gloved hand with her own, and perused the information there. Corso nervously cleared his throat. “We don’t consort with Sith – really. We’ll get the data back to you – we’re not bad folks—”

“For the right price. This is appropriate for the down payment.” Eva passed the datapad back to Theron. “Have the Empire’s forces really become so weak that we can charge straight in like this?”

Darok shook his head. “Not exactly. We’ll be exploiting a brief gap in their patrols which is why we need to move immediately.” 

Eva gave Corso what was best described as a “See, I told you so” look. Corso’s jaw tightened as he returned his attention to Theron’s words.

“You don’t need us to tell you how tough this will be. The Sith Academy is one of the most secure locations in the entire galaxy. But if we succeed, we could learn more about the Empire’s moves than every SIS operation from the past decade combined.” Theron tilted his head toward his datapad. “The end result will be very profitable for you as well – regardless if you’re inspired by Republic fervor.” 

Eva nodded noncommittally. “A moment,” she demanded, one finger raised as she walked toward the edge of the room, Corso following along behind her. 

Thinking quickly, Theron flicked a small bug of his own in her direction, landing it neatly on the hat. Bullseye. Theron tapped his implants and listened away, as he pretended to be very interested and invested in his datapad while he waited.

“What do you think?” Eva asked Corso quietly. 

“I don’t think you should be haggling like that.”

“And I think that’s exactly what she should be doing. How many zeroes were at the end of the down payment?” came Risha’s voice over the comm. 

“Enough to make you happy. You’re still gassed from the last run. Guss, any insight?”

“Can I come? Shooting Force users has become a major pastime lately that I have grown to embrace.”

Eva let out a snicker. “No, because you’ll steal something that we really, really don’t want to have on the ship. Also, I don’t want anyone sensing that lightsaber and thinking I’m running around with a Jedi – I’d be marked.”

“I could leave it on ship,” Guss offered helpfully. 

"I’m leaving _you_ on the ship. Bowdaar?”

“Ehhhh. Sith make me uncomfortable.” 

“I’ll go, Captain,” Akaavi spoke up. “While I do not enjoy serving a Republic master, the Sith have done enough for me to move against them in this small way.” 

Corso threw up his hands, and Theron could see that from the corner of his eye. “Wait, why aren’t I going? I’m already here.”

“I’m concerned you’d take more potshots at the Sith in order to prove your Pub rep,” Eva replied. “We’re running stealth here. I don’t care if we leave ‘em all alive.” 

Corso ran his hand through his hair. “Hey, now. I behaved myself. Even when that spy guy touched your hand.”

“When he passed me his datapad for pricing.”

There was a moment of silence. Theron was completely Force-null, but he swore he felt a minor disturbance in the Force, as if at least six winces (seven if one included C2-N2) appeared spontaneously and at the same time. He included himself among that number. 

“You _just_ didn’t behave yourself, Corso. And I’m guessing if you don’t want the business end of her blaster, Captain wants you up here,” Risha tiredly pointed out. Eva made no sound. 

Corso planted his hands on the top of his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re sorry that there are consequences for your undue jealousy,” Eva sighed. “Listen, I trust you with the ship, and I trust that if I tell you to leave with the ship, you will. I trust you to land her. I trust you as my first mate --

“You just can’t stand running missions with me anymore,” Corso sharply finished for her. 

Theron did his best not to look up. He actually turned his back on the situation entirely. “Correct, because this is what it always turns into these days.”

“You haven’t been the same since Darmas –”

“Finish that sentence, and I swear to the gods, I will burn you down.” The acid in the voice was startling. “You’ve been saying that for two years. As I said from below a pile of tissues and from the bottom of a bottle, just because Darmas is out of the picture, you aren’t, by default, in it,” she spat. “From the days when we were dealing with Skavak, I never said otherwise.”

The comm on the ship end was dead silent – there wasn’t any sign that the rest of the crew were even breathing. 

“If you want to go prove how patriotic you are, go sign up. If you want to leave because this hurts you, go. But until you do, I will always say you are a damn fine pilot and the only one I would trust to manage the operation of the ship in my absence. Please go up to the ship, Corso, and brief Akaavi.” 

A dejected and rejected “Yes, Captain,” emerged. Theron heard footsteps as he walked out. Yikes. Silence.

“That was overdue” was Guss’s clipped assessed.

“Guessing you lost the bet. Who won?” Eva flatly replied.

Silence. Then a very slow “Meeeee” from Risha. “I took my tolerance for his garbage and multiplied by 6. You were approaching sainthood. I may have to get into contact with the Sisters of the Three Moons.” 

“You do that. Get Akaavi down here after Corso gets her briefed.” Eva clicked off her comm unit. She let out a long breath, regaining her composure.

And then she zinged Theron. “Hope you enjoyed the show, Agent Shan.” Theron’s head jerked up as he heard the bug grabbed, and he watched Eva grind the bug under her boot, electronics squealing the entire time. Her face was blank, and she did not look to Theron as she climbed the steps to the command table. 

“I have a Mandalorian on retainer, so she will be joining us for the expedition. We’ll take the job, but I reserve the right to withhold the data until the credits are delivered. Fair?” Eva directed her questions to Darok. 

He nodded. “Fair. Our forces are ready. Victory for the Republic depends on you.”

She smirked. “Dependable is my middle name.”


	9. The Highest Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Eva Corolastor and Akaavi Spar think something is amiss with the Korriban raid, which supports Theron's own concerns. When the Jedi world of Tython is attacked, Theron finds himself gambling with his own personal intel to secure the Smuggler's support.

It was all business. Captain Corolastor delivered as promised, although there were some extracurriculars as anticipated, such as a slave rebellion that Corolastor helped gin up. (They were ushered to the smuggler’s ship, which brought them back to Republic Fleet alongside the data.) Theron was finalizing the credit acquisition from SIS when his private comm link went off. He stroked the implants at the side of his head to receive it. “Agent Shan.”

“I need to talk to you.” Theron blinked in surprise as Eva’s low voice came through.

“Is there a problem? How did you get this?” He frowned deeply. 

“Technically, I don’t have it.”

“T3 =Helpful!” came a happy chirp.

Theron shut his eyes and started to silently chant the Jedi mantras. “What are you doing with my droid?” he grumbled.

“He shut down an elevator for me so my end of the line is clear.” 

The implication was that he needed to do the same. Theron rolled his eyes at their antics, then got the attention of Darok. The larger man raised his eyebrows as he paced impatiently, waiting for Eva’s arrival. “Elevator is stuck with her on it. I’ll slice in and make sure she gets up here.” 

Darok vigorously nodded and practically shoo’ed Theron out the door. This day was getting weird. Theron stalked his way down the hall toward the lift, then took an abrupt right into an unused office that was easily sliced into. Theron did a brief bug sweep. “What are you playing at, Captain?”

“You clear?” She asked, impatiently.

“Yes, now get to the point. Do you want more money?” Theron asked, bluntly.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. But that’s not what I’m calling about.” Theron could hear her crouch down next to the droid unit. “You said this was going to be a stealth operation.”

“Yes. And?”

Eva sighed. “Agent Shan, that Sith Academy was ransacked before we got there. It wasn’t just bomb damage.”

Theron felt as if the world bounced a little bit. His conversation with Trant came back to him. “Explain.” 

There was a shuffle on her end, as if pulling something out of her duster. “My Mando noticed it first. Things were --- you know the military runs sims and practice ops? Like that.”

“Evidence?” Theron inquired. 

“Here, sweetie,” were the next words piped into his head, which completely threw him for a second before he realized Eva was talking to T3, not him. “Akaavi – the Mando -- took holos, I’m uploading to your droid now.”

Slowly, the stills filtered through and they crossed his vision. Akaavi had a point. The carpets were rolled up. One could argue Sith defenders didn’t want to slide around, but to have the time to tack it down…

Blaster shots where, in theory, there was no other combat besides the two infiltrators (who were likely running stealth generators, if he were to take a guess from the telemetry).

Bomb debris perfectly stacked so that other parts of the Sith Academy couldn’t be accessed. 

“Everything was pre-arranged, as if shunting us toward the Dark Council Chamber – we couldn’t do anything else but. And the defenders…seemed to be looking for us.”

“Didn’t sound like you faced much resistance.” Theron ran a cool eye over the telemetry transmitted through the agreed frequency during the op. 

He heard her guffaw. “That’s a trade secret – I’ll charge extra for that if I have to answer it.” Bingo. He was right. “My point is, they were still looking for us, as if they knew about when we’d be coming, so they could put up resistance or act as if they were ….I don’t know. Something was off.”

Theron’s brow creased. All right, time for a test. “I’m sending you images of the people we questioned after the fact. You recognize any of them as those who were supposedly looking for you?” 

There was a pause as Theron sent unmarked intel out to T3 and waited for her response. “The first one. Fourth one. Eighth one.” He heard a small sound of frustration on her end. “Maybe Six. We were moving fast, and I was trying not to get stuck in a door.”

Theron’s jaw locked and he remained silent. Too many dots connecting. Numbers 1, 4, 6, and 8 had all activated a failsafe device and killed themselves in custody before being questioned. The rest were in the hands of Darok’s men… “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

He didn’t trust the Mandalorian’s loyalties. He knew Eva to be a decent actress by reputation. 

But his mind kept going back to the conversation in Trant’s office: 

_“I can’t say that it doesn’t concern me either. He’s been aggressive, even as far as army guys go.”_

_“Think I need to put eyes on him?”_

_“Not yet. But I can keep my eyes on him better than you can anyway.”_

“I’ll be waiting in the Command Center. T3, make sure she gets here. Agent Shan out.”

He cut the line before she could say otherwise. Before he walked out the door to return to Darok, he allowed himself a groan. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

**

Captain Corolastor arrived with T3 rolling along behind her, beeping the entire time. The T3 unit stopped short as it recognized Darok was in the room, then rolled backwards and out. 

Theron wished he could pull that stunt. The smuggler mounted the command deck and handed off the data package, a small red device with inscriptions on it. “Here’s the data from the Dark Council Chambers, Colonel.” Flat eyes, business face on. 

Darok stared at the device in his hands before delicately placing it on the command table. As he spoke, his eyes fixed on the device, not on the woman he was speaking to. “Congratulations. You just succeeded in a mission many people never dared to dream was possible. We’ve proven that victory – true victory – is within reach. Just imagine, all of the Emperor’s followers, truly defeated at last.” 

Now he turned to look at her, something Theron couldn’t quite describe in his eyes. “We’re close now, I’m sure of it. This is a great day.” 

This was really getting weird. Eva, however, was continuing to act the part of the smuggler. “So I normally charge by cargo mass. Given that is supposedly the most valuable asset on Korrban, we can guestimate the final payment to be in relation to Korriban’s overall mass value, minus this little token.” Eva pulled a small chit of paper out of her coat – what was this? “Oh, and the slaves we liberated – they count too, since by Section 8.4.1.6, ‘it is the duty of any Republic contract to liberate Sith Empire slaves and the government shall compensate them appropriately not only for the value of the imprisoned and their transport but also in reward for their moral rectitude, which keeps the Republic on the high ground.’” Eva plastered an atrociously angelic look on her face.

Theron found himself shaking his head. Smuggler extracurriculars. 

ALERT ALERT ALERT ALERT ALERT

A claxon went off before any response could be made to the pitch. Theron’s eyes widened as comms flooded in through his implants. The command center locked down by default as reports of an attack on a core planet flickered across the screens. Eva spun, her duster flapping up as everything seemed to scream at once. Theron’s hands flew across the command table console. 

Theron’s stomach clenched as he made sense of the noise and of the messages _._ “It’s Tython… we need everything we’ve got!” He felt himself moving around the other side of the table to address Darok and Eva. “Imperial forces just hit Tython. Iso-5 bombings, strike teams in the Jedi Temple…they need our support, now!”

Darok swiftly removed the data device from the planning table and started to analyze the data Theron had pulled up on the live attack. A scowl erupted on his face. Theron positioned himself at the main comm board, bending his knees slightly so he could lean against it. He was getting light-headed – _that was useful to no one, get it together, Shan_. 

Eva was rooted in place, a deep frown appearing. “How did this happen?”

Darok turned to address her. “If you’re willing to help, we might be able to find out.” That made her even more displeased, from what Theron could see as his fingers flew across the main board and as he tried to strangle his emotional impulses. 

Darok threw open a comm line. “Blue squadron: complete refueling operations and launch immediately. Any wave one troops not injured on Korriban: re-equip and board shuttles. Shan.” Theron briefly raised his eyes to acknowledge the man, his concentration on the planetary defenses and how quickly they were crumbling. “You gather whatever sensor data we have and forward to all forces. I want everyone en route in 5. Move.”

Eva looked between Theron and Darok. “This is too much to be a coincidence. I don’t think it’s wise to rush in.”

“If it’s as unwise as you think, we’ll up your pay,” Darok cut in. Theron raised his head for a moment to catch Eva’s lip curl back, as if to retort or say something, but she held her fire as Darok continued. “The empire must not be allowed to capture Tython. We cannot afford to hesitate. Period.”

Theron spoke up, “I’ll pull up every bit of data we’ve got and talk you through the whole way.” 

Eva looked in his direction. A pause. He looked up, and he caught her staring at him. Theron had seen that look before – when she was attempting to run the math to beat the house without looking suspicious. She seemed to reach an equation she liked as she began to move toward him. He couldn’t tell what equation, however – her face did not give him much. She hesitantly nodded at him. “I can speed up that data transmission with my command codes. May I?” 

Theron waved her over and shifted a step to the right to give her room. She stared at the mainframe for a moment before her fingers hunted out the necessary keys to access her XS remotely. “You ok?” Eva asked quietly.

Theron grunted and looked at her sidewise. 

“You’ve gone white. Got a sister in there or something?” A white flash from the access screen lit up her face from below, her eyes seeming particularly hollow. 

Theron did not answer. This is business. And his business was saving Tython from the Sith Empire. 

He started slicing into the Academy’s security cameras to give himself a god’s-eye view of the situation and where the Sith were pouring in. About half-way through, he noticed that Eva was halted at the command code screen – she was connecting to her ship, but it wanted her prefix codes. Theron vaguely recalled that the greeting screen for ship’s command codes – particularly on ancient models such as the XS Light she had – showed some rather vital information. Design flaw or deliberate effort at planned obsolescence, Theron wasn’t sure. 

He figured she wanted him to go, but as he started to turn away, he heard her say, “Trade you. Who?”

His gaze drifted down. Five of the six required prefix codes were entered. Last one. 

What game was she playing?

Gambler.

Suspicious gambler.

Likely wise enough to know he was playing with a stacked deck against her, in terms of intel. Personal information. 

Theron clenched his fists as he paused his slicing for a second. He looked again at Eva’s screen and then down at her. The situation was already stressful enough. 

May the gods damn her, not revealing anything as she turned her face up toward him, almost daring him to refuse her. 

She was going to give him one more thing. But he had to give up something _highly_ personal. It was an ugly trade. But it was _fair_. His voice gravelly, he ground through his teeth. “My mother. _”_

Two heartbeats as the hit registered on Eva. The only sign of reception was a widening of those flat eyes. 

Two heartbeats. Ever so subtly, she tilted her head. “Jedi…not typical.” He could no longer see her face, as it was staring straight down into the screen, and a beep came up. His eyes dropped.

The screen gave him his trade. Along with its ridiculous number of modifications and frankly bizarre abilities, the ship’s name was plastered on the screen: _Virtue’s Thief._ And the direct comm line to it. He must have involuntarily responded to it somehow, as she hissed at him, “Don’t burn me.” Quickly, he reached across her to tap a few buttons and the screen disappeared, only to be filtered into his neural network. 

“Same.” They didn’t make eye contact again before she walked away and out through the command center door. 


	10. The First Time He Saw Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva and Bowdaar help to liberate Tython, and Theron finds she has a few more cards left in her deck to play. Eva's response to Darok's dismissal reveals her true self to Theron.
> 
> And dangerously for him, he likes what he sees. 
> 
> And maybe she likes what she sees, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have been waiting for the Moment, it's here. And again, I did research into fast draw shooting -- it's a real thing! And Eva's timing is pretty good, but it's not top of the field (or, at least it isn't anymore). That would be a time in the .20s. 
> 
> If you watch the cut scene for the Medal of Valor, you do see Theron looking distinctly uncomfortable about the situation, foreshadowing the next conversation in the cantina. Nice job by Bioware for the subtle inclusion.

Theron soon found out that a door that was opened could swing both ways. _Virtue’s Thief_ hailed _him_ when it had landed at Tython, almost showing off. It was a nonverbal ready signal, but that did irk him.

The mission progressed as anticipated (well, as anticipated as it could be) until it reached the temple. Eva had grabbed the Wookiee for this round. Theron could hear him sound off over Eva’s comm. “How’s tricks up on Fleet?” Eva asked.

“Tricky.” Theron scanned the command room. Darok had been acting normally, as a colonel would in response to a Core World invasion. A discreet message to an old friend indicated that Satele was off-world at the time, so his blood pressure had probably dropped by about 35 points. “I’m slicing into the security cameras immediately around the Academy. I should see you in a minute.”

“Heh.”

Theron brought up a camera view external to the Temple. “Let me know when you approach.” Despite the situation, a small smile threatened his lips. 

“You…” Eva didn’t complete the sentence. Instead, Theron watched with some amusement as the Wookiee lurched out of nowhere, snapped the neck of a Sith lord, then vanished again. 

Good grief. “Now I’ve seen everything. Why would you even think to do that?”

“Hey, if you happened to have a spare stealth generator lying around and a cooperative Wookiee, why _wouldn’t_ you?”

“Fair point.” Smugglers could improvise. “Stay there for thirty seconds. I can already see inside, minus the library.” Images of black-robbed invaders populated his screen – they were literally everywhere. Theron did a quick headcount. “It’s crammed. Thirty plus, easily.” He stopped abruptly.

Akaavi Spar was right. The carpets were rolled and tacked. Certain vital parts of the Jedi Temple – such as the forge – had been conveniently “blocked off” by fallen debris. Something was very, very wrong. His voice betrayed none of this as he gave a quick rundown to the strike team. “Imps have erected a shield around the library, so I can’t visualize. Assume it’s stuffed to the brim. Track the shield power back to its source and shut it down, then see what’s going on.” 

Theron looked up to see Darok drift toward the far side of the room. In the lowest voice he could muster, he squeezed in, “Two libraries in a day is a bit much for me.”

“Aye.” 

Louder now, he continued. “Be careful. I’m picking up some telemetry that tells me you’re not the only ones playing with questionable toys.” Theron typed out a few commands to see if he could get the cameras to move at all. Aha. Got it.

Theron felt no small measure of sorrow as he panned around the Jedi Temple complex. It had been rendered nearly unrecognizable from the bright, serene planet he knew. It would get worse before it got better – he’d asked Eva and Bowdaar to spike the defenses so that the Republic had a chance to get in. 

“Approaching Jedi Temple steps.” Theron moved to look at the camera. Obviously, he could see nothing but the scenery. 

Now a dirty and drab grey from the dust that was kicked up, the tiling on the temple’s front landing still had some bright spots, though it was cracked and certainly damaged. The banners that had draped the entry way drooped, dingy with debris. The Jedi would make fast work in fixing it, but memories from Theron’s childhood were still discontent at the sight. 

As he zoomed the camera out to “see” Eva and Bowdaar, there was a ripple on the holo then and a buzz through the comm. “Captain--?”

By the time he finished calling out to her, an Imperial lieutenant was shot dead on the ground. Eva materialized from stealth as her generator sputtered from the strain. Her left-hand blaster was smoking – she was a right-handed shot… “What the – ” Theron gaped at the screen as he tried to piece together what had happened. 

“I heard her. I shot her.” Eva simply explained. She knelt down to unbelt the Imp’s stealth belt and pocketed it. Spoils.

Theron felt his mouth hanging open as he pulled up and watched the footage loop three times in a row on a separate screen. “You pulled and fired in a third of second from the buzzing sound, according to the computer.” Theron stared – from the ripple, he could see the two stealth fields intersect and reveal a ghostly outline. One smooth motion saw Eva jerk the blaster, somehow aim, and fire a fatal shot, the burst overworking both stealth generators and exposing both women. 

“Getting slow, boss,” Theron heard the Wookiee say over Eva’s comm. 

“When was the last time I had time to practice for fast draw?” she asked the Wookiee rhetorically. He was still in stealth, so Eva looked as if she was talking to her overgrown imaginary fuzzy friend. 

“With the left hand?” Theron asked, still incredulous. He watched the holo sequence again and again….

Eva re-activated her own stealth. “Don’t want to ruin my right with that dumb party trick.”

She shot a person in the .33 seconds it took to realize she was there, and it’s another dumb party trick. Theron shook his head in disbelief, and then called up information on what Eva called “fast draw.” He was surprised to see it was indeed a niche sport among smugglers, decommed troopers, and bounty hunters. Of course.

After a second of consideration, Theron began background search on the different competitions’ results for “EC.” After all that research (and all that whiskey), he did not like that she could still surprise him like that, leaving him sucking air like a fish out of water.

“Heading in.” Eva and Bowdaar crept through the Temple and around the various security patrols. Theron shook his head. Stealth Wookiees. Trick shots. Imps were not having a good day. 

After some tomfoolery in disarming the shield generators for the library, Theron could see inside the library. A single Sith lord awaited them, and he was quickly dispatched. A light blinked on Theron’s console. “Theron to strike team, I’m seeing an incoming holo call. I know I didn’t hire you to be answering service, but could you get that?” 

Both Eva and the Wookiee made a noise of slight amusement as they crept out and away toward the holo terminal in the ruins of the Jedi Temple. Theron switched camera until he found the blinking light, then routed the duo to it. 

Eva de-stealthed to activate it, leaving Bowdaar to guard her back. The image flickered to life. Theron went to work on capturing the message. His brain was placing the Sith as something important, but he wasn’t making any connection to a name. The image spoke: Lord Goh. The package is secured. You and your men can proceed with the additional – oh.” The image sneered at the smuggler’s presence. “Running a bit ahead of schedule are we? No matter. you can have your little temple back, if you like. I’m done with it.”

With that the transmission cut out. Bowdaar came out of stealth. “Pub soldiers coming. I don’t want to get shot because one of them is jumpy.” 

“Nobody expects Crouching Smuggler, Hidden Wookiee,” agreed Eva as Theron cut the transmission on his end. 

**

Captain Eva Corolastor and Bowdaar returned to the command center, dusty, but no worse for wear. Darok turned to meet them. “Captain. Our forces are sweeping the rest of the muck off of Tython as we speak, and reconstruction crews are already being prepped. This could have been much worse.” Bowdaar stopped short at the doorway, letting Eva proceed by herself into the heart of the room. Theron noticed that Darok had that effect on droids, too. “Thanks to you, the enemy has only bloodied our nose – and hardened our resolve.”

Eva stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, hands folded in front of her. “The timing of this attack – just as we made our own assault on Korriban? It’s too much of a coincidence,” she began, but Darok cut her off.

“It’s possible that the enemy’s intelligence isn’t the shambles we were led to believe. I’m sure the SIS will determine how this slip-up happened.” 

The Colonel threw a pointed look at Theron, who stepped forward to grovel appropriately. “Yes, we will.” Theron decided he officially hated that meathead, and based upon the non-reaction from Eva Corolastor, she wasn’t impressed either.

Darok continued to grandstand. “Even so, you’ve just won two critical battles for the Republic, back to back. You’re a hero, and heroes deserve to be recognized.” Darok crossed to a drawer in his work station and pulled out a distinctive white box.

Theron fought to keep his mouth shut and his eyes in his sockets. No….

“The Medal of Valor.” Darok carefully opened the box and pulled the medal out, its multi-faceted surface catching the lights of the command center. “No commendation this prestigious has ever been awarded so quickly; the Chancellor was truly impressed.” As the medal spun in the air, Theron shifted uncomfortably, and he found himself looking down at the floor, running a nervous hand through the back of his hair. This – this was going too fast. This was going wrong. He could feel her eyes jumping from him to Darok as the Colonel drew near to her and offered the medal.

Eva froze. The flat eyes ceased their motion, and every movement – conscious or unconscious – stilled.

Darok gently – almost kindly – pulled her hands apart and put the medal in her right gloved palm. “As am I. Congratulations.” Eva blankly looked down at the medal that had been placed in her hand. 

The thick silence hung in the air. Darok smiled tightly. Eva tucked her chin, craning down at the medal without drawing too close, as if it were a trick or something that would blow up in her face. Her face was entirely hidden from both men for those precious seconds. 

When Eva lifted her head back up, Theron’s breath caught in his throat. Her russet eyes had crackled to life, bright and hot. “We have to figure out what really happened here.” 

“We will, but you’ve done enough here for one day.”

The indignant glare she shot at Darok was hidden within a second, but Theron caught the edge of it as she tamped it down. Her eyes continued to flicker and flare as Darok offered platitudes. 

And that was the moment that Theron first saw her. Not a holo vid image. Not a still. Not the carefully regulated persona of the Dark Lady. Not the polite operative with the flat eyes. He saw _her_ , the real person, the one who desperately wanted to bounce that medal right off of Darok’s shiny bald head. 

Suddenly, the images he had ingested alongside one too many glasses of whiskey surged through his mind. The nervous drink, the hated kiss, the friend in sorrow, the undeterred truther-teller, the dissatisfied savior, the playful friend…. All suddenly real, all suddenly in front of him. She was outraged, intelligent, beautifully formed--- His professional, objective assessments were in peril as his personal, unconscious, very male evaluations of her slipped free of their bounds. 

The urge to reach out and touch her _right in this room_ was thrilling to him, and Theron’s inner voice of discipline was swallowed up within milliseconds: _No. Not with an asset. Not this asset, _it cried out as it was drowned.

Most of all, she wanted truth, not a medal, and _that_ provoked unbidden desire in him. Theron’s blood ran hot, roaring in his ears for a moment as Darok left her standing there, alone with him. Her gloved hands were likely white-knuckled underneath as she gripped the medal in her hand, angrily. Now was the chance. 

As abruptly as he had lost control, Theron resumed regular order within his own mind. Oh, everything unprofessional and inappropriate was certainly there, but it was leashed. Business before – everything. 

“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” That was the truth. 

When Eva turned to look at him, eyes wild, he held her gaze with his own. This time, he did not drop it as he did when they first met. Words were unspoken, clearly conveyed. Yes, he knew. Yes, she was correct. He didn’t have to be a Jedi to know she was outraged; his own mood mirrored hers, though better controlled. The rage behind her eyes reigned itself in, the fire contained so that she could ---

…and then Theron realized she was seeing _him_.

And now they were looking at each other for a long moment that had to be ticking seconds on a clock somewhere, but he couldn’t reckon. He knew she was cataloguing the spikes in his hair, the implants on his left temple, the olive-shifting-to-gold eyes, the near perpetual 5 o’clock shadow. Once he escaped the pull of those eyes, he took note of the strong cupid’s bow in her lips, her straight nose, her elegant jawline, and wondered what else lay hidden by the outfit worn by the Dark Lady. 

“Yes,” she answered. Eva answered. Nobody else, no other disguise. “Cantina. See you in 15.”

She was the one who had the strength to break the spell by turning on her heel and storming out of the command center, brushing past Bowdaar. The Wookiee looked at Theron quizzically for a moment before following after her. 

Theron remembered finally to breathe. 


	11. "Turned Out Pretty Well"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron confirms that Satele is alive, and he meets Eva in the cantina. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along for the ride. Feedback appreciated!

Theron exited the command room within a few minutes of Corolastor’s departure. He went straight to the cantina and pulled out his holo comm. He placed it squarely on the table in front of him as he sent his drinks order over to the bar. “Satele Shan.”

He waited, tense, until the connection picked up and his mother’s face shown through. Theron felt relief spread through him and his heart lost that shaky broken feeling it had carried for the last few hours. “Grandmaster Shan, I hope you are well.”

“As well as one can be in trade negotiations,” Satele allowed herself a small, polite smile to her son. But then she was all business. “I felt the attack on Tython. I know you must have worked to thwart it. What can you tell me?” 

He didn’t want to talk about Eva. He didn’t want to talk about Darok. So he just hacked through the basics of the Korriban mission and the turnabout at Tython. He didn’t have answers for her yet. By the time he finished the rundown, there were already people looking for her. “Thank you, Agent Shan. I will be in touch. May the Force always be with you.”

He went to respond, but she was already gone. “Glad you’re ok, Mom,” he said to no one. He meant it. It hurt every time he said things like that to an audience of none, but he really did mean it. 

Theron tiredly checked his chrono. The smuggler was late – no, he was. She was there, across the bar, waiting her turn. She was in quiet conversation with Bowdaar, reassuring him of something. Then, she saw that his holo call had ended. The woman gestured to the Wookiee, and they began to walk toward him and the bar. The waiter came with his drinks, then departed. As she drew nearer, Theron could detect Eva was making sure he – Theron -- was watching – for what?

As the pair drew within earshot, she stopped. Eva turned to Bowdaar. “I think you need to go check out those new trees in the arboretum they’ve created here.” She reached up and unsnapped the large, wide-brimmed hat and pulled away from her head, a coil of hair cascading down to her shoulders. “If they ask, tell them I accidentally left it in the briefing room. You’ll collect it and then collect me.” The Wookiee nodded and wordlessly took the hat. They parted ways, Eva unpinning the hair as she walked and letting it tumble loose down to her upper back. The pins slid horizontally into the lapel of the coat, merging with the seams there. She tussled her hair to shake out the stiff form it had been molded into for the day. 

Red flags abounded. It wasn’t just a hair thing to mess with him. It was a crew thing too. Interesting.. That hat had been wired – her crew had known everything she was saying to this point. He wasn’t dumb – he had watched for that cricket-like transmission the second she stepped into the commander center.

Now they were alone. She cut them out. Her good and loyal crew.

Theron’s own piqued interest endangered him, and he knew it. She was trying to throw him. It was working, he realized. No wonder she was a terror at the tables. He could see her full face without the shadows cast by the hat – her skin was clear, framed by the deep brown hair that had been made wavy by its pinning earlier in the day.

Eva Corolastor had survived and defeated men by knowing exactly what they wanted and brutally delivering it – and not necessarily in the way they expected. That, or in a fast draw – that footage from the Temple still blew his mind. 

She arrived at his table. “That was… Grandmaster Shan?”

Theron nodded. “Grandmaster Satele Shan of the Jedi Order. Most know of her.”

Eva shrugged. “Unless she wants some goods of questionable legality or needs a person to go where they really shouldn’t, Jedi don’t enter into my world much.” Eva swallowed then tilted her head. “Not on Tython?”

“Currently acting as emissary to the Drayvas League. Nowhere near Tython,” he affirmed.

He could have stopped there. He really should have stopped right there. But… for some ungodly reason, Hadrian Corolastor’s cigarettes popped into his mind. “We aren’t exactly close. The Jedi don’t care much for family dynamics. Doesn’t mean I can’t check up on her though.”

She had not asked. He had offered it up anyway. One of the biggest secrets among Pub political and military elites, and Theron had let it spill to a _smuggler_. Eva nodded, then contemplatively regarded him. “If you’re her son, why weren’t you raised as a Jedi?”

Theron stifled a humorless laugh. She really was not concerned with Jedi in general or in specific. The two worlds did not mix. It meant she didn’t have any preconceptions or nutty ideas about the order, though, which was refreshing. “I was, actually. I don’t have their particular talent,” he replied, sharper than he intended. 

He saw her mentally file _that_ , likely under “raw nerve; manipulate carefully if at all.” 

He took a sip of his long-awaited whiskey to curb his tongue. “I found … other employment. Honestly, I’d say things have worked out just fine.” 

Eva’s lips curled up into a smile and she regarded him with obvious favor. “If you ask me, you turned out pretty well.” 

_Oh._ A warm feeling blossomed in his chest, and it was not the whiskey. Theron grabbed hold of the power shift and charged. “Then I’m guessing you won’t mind staying and hearing me out a bit.” Theron offered the seat across from him. “There’s a Sullustan gin and tonic with your name on it.”

He saw her eyes light up. “You have done your homework.” She hastily shrugged out of her great duster and slung it over the back of her chair. She made a show of straightening her shirt beneath her vest before sitting down.

She was covered neck to foot, but her ploy with the duster had worked. Theron’s eyes raked over her small waist and the ample bust that were now made obvious. Theron’s brain flittered back to the image of her getting into the beskar vest. “So have you.”

She silently rewarded him with a genuine, devilish smile before her mouth disappeared behind the tumbler of gin, but her eyes remained warm and lively.

Enough games. Business first. Theron knew his mood swing was abrupt, but he – he could not _not_ work at this point. He leaned forward toward her, speaking low and being mindful of passing ears. “Even without the Force, I know when things don’t add up. These ops, Colonel Darok. Something is buried here, I’m sure of it.”

Eva took a hard swallow of her gin, her eyes sharp as gimlets. 

“But the real question is, are you going to take your shiny medal and go home, like Darok is hoping, or are you ready to start digging?” Theron felt his own intensity radiating across the table. Was she going to run off and leave the Pubs to drown themselves? Or was she that decent person that he suspected, that just person that didn’t like cover-ups? 

Eva absorbed this proposition and made an examination of the ice in her glass. Her eyes flickered around the cantina, not remaining any one place for long, but enough to get an idea of who wasn’t listening. Theron knew he had picked his table well. 

He hoped picking her was equally as prudent.

Theron picked up his whiskey tumbler and took a swallow. Rather than put the glass back on the table, he held it in the palm of his hand and waited. 

She took another sip of her drink then placed the glass back on the table with her thumb and middle finger daintily holding it around the rim, handling it as if it were a chess piece. “ _If_ ,” she began, heavily emphasizing that key word, “you were to do some digging, where exactly would you start?”

Got her. Theron placed his glass back on the table as well. “I’d start by recruiting someone outside the system. Someone who’s used to working outside the lines, around the edges…”

“Experienced smuggler, perhaps,” she interjected. “For example.” She picked up her glass again and watched him from over its rim.

“For example.” Theron felt a terse grin invading his face. “Then, I’d find out everything I could about Darok and that Sith Lord you talked to. See if there are any connections.” Theron quaffed the rest of his whiskey, the fire burning straight down his gullet. “And then, once I found something, I’d contact my _new friend_ and we’d get to the bottom of this.”

Eva let her eyebrows jump a bit at _new friend_ , that devilish grin threatening to come out and play again. That privately pleased him. “But this is all just speaking hypothetically, of course,” he added carefully.

“Of course,” she affirmed. Eva leaned back in her chair, glass clasped in her right hand. “And new friends do need to be cautious. One would want to ensure things are as they appear before dragging the family in.” 

The crew. She wanted to hear his pitch before she clued in the crew, though he thought Bowdaar and Akaavi already had a pretty good idea of what this conversation was going to be about. One more thing, on his end. “If such partnership were to be brokered, would the goals be shared? Not saying there wouldn’t be extracurricular opportunities, but the same endgame?” 

Eva’s right thumb glided back and forth across the surface of the glass, wiping up the condensation. “If it’s as advertised, I don’t see why not. Though it would have to be understood that unless a line is clearly demarcated, it simply doesn’t exist for _some people_.” 

In Basic _,_ Theron interpreted that to mean " _tell me if I_ can’t _steal/kill/blow up/make money off of something, or else I will very likely do so."_ Acceptable. "That would be understood.” He placed his empty glass firmly on the table. “Been great chatting with you. We will have to do this again sometime.” He rose from the table. “See you around.” After a split-second of consideration, he gave her a parting gift: “my tab is still open.”

“You are something else, Agent Theron Shan.” She raised her half-empty glass to him, her pretty face smiling up at him. “Have a good night.” 

With what he hoped to be a sexy curl of his lips, he turned and walked away, not looking back at her, even for a second. He did not stop until he reached the lift for the Coruscant shuttles. 

As the lift doors closed, Theron’s control finally slipped. He knew he had a stupid grin on his face. He couldn’t wipe it off though. She thought he “turned out pretty well.” She thought he was "something else." He was such an idiot, but this made him just unreasonably… In a good mood? Pleased with himself for once? 

Her compliment and the follow-up flirting was pleasantly unexpected– well, not after their staring contest in the comm—well, yes, it was, he hadn’t been sure whether she was reciprocating or trying to set him on fire with her mind (he’d seen her do remarkable things; lighting him up would have just been another dumb party trick).

Never mind what the feeling was. Theron wanted to bottle it, keep it around for cloudy days, days when whiskey didn’t take the edge off at night. This was just ridiculous for someone approaching his third decade.

He wore that stupid grin all the way home. Possibly even to bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> sullustangin.tumblr.com


End file.
